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anashins · 9 months ago

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King of the Streets

Pairing: street racer!Jaehyun x journalist!reader

Genre: street racing au, action, drama, romance, slow burn, smut

Word Count: 28k (I just can't write short stories, I'm sorry)

Summary: The moment you find yourself hiding in the backseat of a sports car that's illegally racing through the city, you just know this story will finally catapult you to the top of your journalism career. But there are a few things you haven't reckoned: How personal this story will eventually turn - and the driver's sheer insatiable craving for lollipops. And for you.

A/N: I started this after Jaehyun admitted he would have liked to become an F1 racer if the idol-path wouldn't have worked out for him. I spiraled and this is the outcome - I hope you have fun reading it as much as I had writing it!

“It’s been three years since I’ve started working here, and-”

“Unfortunately, this doesn’t matter, miss.”

For an entire week, you had prepared yourself for this meeting with your editor-in-chief. You had written down all your achievements from when you were an intern to your current position.

And he had the nerve to tell you it all didn’t matter?

It had been three very long years with too many nights spent in the office to meet a deadline you were not responsible for, trips all across the country on your own account for stories that hadn’t even made it into the magazine, and work meetings where no one had bothered listening to your ideas and input.

After all the hard work and sleepless hours you had poured into your dedicated passion, it was unfathomable to you how he didn’t even bother bringing up the slightest interest in what you had to say, and it showed all over face in the form of widened eyes and slightly parted lips.

“Others have started prior to you and they’re in the exact same position,” your chief editor said, swaying in his chair. The city’s skyline spread behind him like a painting as the sun was setting, and more than once had you already imagined yourself in that spot. “What makes you think you’re better than any of them?”

An imaginary note popped up in your head. You got this, you were prepared for this. “I’m one of the firsts to go and one of the last to leave, I wrote the most clicked article on our website - to this day. I offer input to everyone who hasn’t got something going on, my personal and professional network that I’ve built throughout the past years is wide and strong. I’m the first one to take on suggested topics, the number of articles I publish per month is the highest out of all editors, I’m always up-to-date, I live for this job.”

The middle-aged man leaned forward and propped his elbows against the glass table, inspecting you thoroughly while you were bracing yourself to elaborate every bullet point. But he only said,

“No, I don’t think so.”

You were flabbergasted. “Pardon me?”

“I don’t think you actually live for this job,” he explained calmly. “For that, it takes more than research and cranking out as many articles as possible just because your writing is good. It is, trust me, but the stories lack emotion and graspable actions. Right now, you’re only sitting in front of the computer, writing from your imagination. You don’t live the stories, you’re not in them.”

“I take trips across the country to attend events, I participate in every press conference possible, I-”

Again, he interrupted you, “Hara got in contact with a designer and walked for his show as an amateur model. Dal went to the rooftop of the highest building in this city and took pictures that even made it into television.”

“But that is illegal,” you commented. “Hara smuggled herself in when one of the models fell sick and Dal nearly got caught by the police.”

“And we would’ve bailed for all of them.” He sighed deeply as if annoyed by repeating himself. “See, this is what I’m trying to say, miss. The writing that you’re delivering is clean and conformable to law. When I read your articles, I’m well informed, but nothing sticks in my head. We’re a magazine, not a newspaper. Nobody wants to read about the opening of a new restaurant when they can read about things they will never be able to experience themselves. You have to dive in the story, be in the story to make people believe they’re in them too when they read it.”

You were quite taken aback as you noticed he remained polite when all he wanted to say was, “So, my stories are too boring, not sensational.”

The editor-in-chief let out another long sigh and fell back into his chair. “You have a trademark, but you have to get out of your secure shell to actually go somewhere, otherwise you’re going to get stuck.”

You were a goody two-shoes was what he tried to tell you. You were on the top when it was about writing, grammar and quantity, but your stories didn’t attract anyone’s interest, and if that wasn’t the case, then you could write as many perfect articles as you wanted - you would never get a higher position.

You inhaled deeply. “So, what do you suggest I’d do?”

His answer was clear, “Look for a story that will change lives. Write a story that will leave people breathless, and you’re getting the position of a senior editor. Because miss, you’re one of the most capable journalists here, but you don’t only need to be capable, you need to be a storyteller. If you can do this, propose the topic to me next week. If it’s what I expected, it will make headlines in the next issue and secure your new position.”

If only it were so easy.

____

You were sitting in the fast food restaurant with your notebook opened in front of you. Every single page was blank even though you had been there for several hours already, the ballpen in your hand having barely moved ever since.

“Do you want to order something else?”

“I’m good, thank you.”

You could only imagine the eyeroll the waitress let out when she turned away from you after not getting another order for two hours. But you were already short of cash this month and wouldn’t get paid for another week.

Another reason why you needed the senior position: as a regular editor, you could barely get by. Why were journalists underpaid anyway when they were the source of daily news and this connected the world? You had never understood.

Many ideas had flown into your head, from working a day in a job that was notorious to interviewing an infamous inmate, but none of these were exciting or extraordinary enough like it was expected of you. The topics that you came up with didn’t immediately peak interest when you researched about what your fellow editors had ever written about. And what you found left you nearly speechless and doubting yourself.

Yes, you had always been tame, reserved, a goody two-shoes. That was why your mind was also not expanding to the way it was expected of reporters. Perhaps, you were not made for this job as you could also not quite learn how to do it right.

Should you perhaps change to newspapers after all? But the open positions were always so rare and you had wanted to start at your current magazine because it was the most famous in the country…

“Where are you going after this?”

“I’m going to watch the race, Falcon against Antelope!”

“They’re set for tonight? I didn’t know!”

“Pscht, not so loud!”

Since you already lost focus and let other people’s voices into your mind, you could also pack your things and go home. You were already so done for the day.

“Can I come with you? It’s been so long since the last time I went.”

“Sure. They’ll start at midnight, so we have to hurry.”

You zipped up your handbag and threw a few bills on the table, already with one arm up the sleeve of your jacket when you perked up your ears.

“Falcon will make a comeback, so tonight there will be a lot of cash flowing!”

“Wow!”

You cleared up your throat and walked up to the two young women on the nearby table whose conversation you had been partially involuntarily listening to for the last minute. Despite your attention only shifting to them much later, you got the gist of the entire story.

It was about illegal street racing, you had read an article about it a few months ago in which the alias Falcon had also been mentioned along with another animal that you had forgotten.

The Falcon was only stuck in your mind, because there had been an accident caused by him, and ever since then, the police were paying even more attention to these kinds of illegal activities. The fact that there would be a race tonight must be a well hidden secret.

“Excuse me, I overheard you’re also going to watch the race?” you feigned knowledge and quickly made up a story that would get them to talk. “Can you tell me where exactly they’ll start? I was going to meet my friend here who’s got all the info, but she’s not arrived yet and I’m afraid I’m gonna be late.”

They looked at you in wonder, then in amazement. One of them, apparently the better informed one, then nodded eagerly before describing the exact spot to you. “I guess it’s going to be quite full since it’s the first one with Falcon since the… incident. So everyone wants to see him. They’ll start at the industrial park at midnight.”

You nodded. “Thank you. Maybe we’ll see each other there.” You waited a bit until they had left the restaurant and then pondered whether to join or not.

There had already been many articles written about the Falcon and street racing in common, but since the most controversial racer would make a comeback, this race would be a special one, perhaps even kept secret to a point where no other media outlet knew about it. There was a slim chance that you were going to be the only reporter, so regardless of your current struggles, you had to take this opportunity.

Yes, an article about the Falcon’s comeback was good, but that was by far not enough for the story of your lifetime. It was better than nothing though, a beginning. And who knew what could come out of it.

As a journalist, you had learned that you were better off going and had something expected to write about rather than not going and missing on unexpected happenings.

So you headed to the industrial park.

____

When you arrived at the destination, you spotted a crowd that had formed in a wide, clear space between two buildings. There were about fifty spectators that had gathered, divided into different groups of various sizes, lights coming from the street lamps all around the place.

Through the gaps between the cliques that all seemed too engaged with each other to notice how lost you were, you discovered a group of men that marked themselves off everyone else.

It wasn’t particularly the way they were dressed as they all wore black leather, but rather the presence they radiated. But you couldn’t deny the fact that all of them were equally overly handsome, just in a way you wouldn’t be drawn to. You weren’t intimidated, you were scared to the bones, and you immediately wanted to turn on your heels and run right back home.

You weren’t much informed about the topic of illegal street racing aside from the few articles you had read. You only knew that it was one of the most dangerous underground activities that had cost a few lives already, of drivers and passerbyers almost equally. It was macabre that articles like these gained the most attention, clicks and sales.

Although you weren’t quite passionate about this kind of topic let alone approved of it, it was the best that you could come up with for now. You wanted to prove to your editor-in-chief that you were willing to take risks, willing to leave your comfort zone for the job - even if this wasn’t going to be the final story.

But now that you were right in the middle of this happening, you were getting cold feet. This wasn’t right. If you were caught as a spectator, would the police detain you too? And would your boss truly bail you out?

“Place your bet!”

You flinched when a young man popped up right next to you with a tablet in his hand, looking at you with expectant eyes.

“Pardon?”

“Place your bet!” he repeated. “Falcon against Antelope.”

“Oh, I only came to watch,” you waved aside. “But thank you!”

“You’re here for the first time, am I right?” The guy’s eyes narrowed. “Place. Your. Bet. This is how we’re financing this all. No money, no races.”

This wasn’t a question anymore, this was a demand, and you figured that if you were going to remain undercover, you had to play along and pretend to be like everyone else, even though you didn’t know the rules to this game. The guy was scanning you from head to toe, and it took you everything to restrain yourself from shaking when you took the tablet into your hands.

You had changed your mind entirely by now. You just wanted to be out of here as fast as possible, no matter what the editor-in-chief might say about this lost opportunity. It just wasn’t worth all this stress and fear. After all, you were quite attached to your life and a clear criminal report. It wasn’t that bad to be a goody two-shoes.

Still, you had to place a bet before you could vanish so that the guy would stop bothering you, so you scanned the display laying in your palms.

There were two columns, one belonged to the Falcon, the other to the Antelope. Each column was divided into different cells with the name and the amount of money one betted. No one had placed a single bet on the Falcon.

What was there to lose when the money would be gone from you one way or another since you were going to leave right after this anyway? You wouldn’t win a single penny.

So you placed a fake name and 70.000 Won for the Falcon, which was ironically the lowest bid for the Antelope. You noticed that most of the other people had betted much more, making you wonder about the total amount the winner could collect. But 70.000 Won was already very much for you, so you stuck with that.

“The Falcon, huh?” The guy grinned. “Risky, but I like the way you think. We only accept cash. Today it’s 20 million won so far for the winner, and ten percent of it gets split between the right betters depending on their bets. Maybe you’re lucky tonight and win ten percent of the entire amount yourself.”

You were holding yourself back letting out an audible gasp as it truly sounded tempting, and instead reached into your bag and pulled out your purse. 70.000 Won was a small price for your life, and you couldn’t wait to finally leave and never turn back. How high were the chances the Falcon was going to win anyway when nobody believed he would?

The guy grinned when he collected your money. “Interesting. It’s going to be an interesting race today. Good luck!”

He then went on to bother someone else all while you checked your surroundings for a hidden, but secure exit. Since you had used a fake name and only one person had seen your real face up close, it would be easy getting away unnoticed.

And you did.

Sliding along the buildings with your back pressed into the outer walls, nobody paid attention to you since the race was about to begin and a turmoil broke out shortly after your bet. You had been weighing yourself in safety, currently hiding in a blind, dark spot in the entrance of a different building with the street to freedom in sight when you suddenly heard male voices speaking up.

“Ready, Jaehyun?”

“More than you are.”

You froze on the spot when you saw several tall figures coming in your direction, their bodies illuminated by the street lamps, and you recognized the intimidating men dressed all in black leather who had been right in the middle of the crowd shortly before.

You couldn’t go back or forth, because either side was illuminated and would set the spotlight right on you, and flight forward would mean running directly into their arms. You could only push the door to the building behind you open and…

You found yourself standing in some kind of huge factory hall where only two cars were parked, the rest was entirely empty. Who in their right mind would rent a whole factory building for only two cars? Yes, they were expensive sports cars from what you could tell, the kind of ones that would catch everyone’s attention on the streets because of how luxurious and tuned they were… but an entire hall?

You were still processing and connecting all of this new information when the same door through which you had entered got pushed open again, and in walked all men that you had run from shortly before.

Your heart suddenly lept, and you feared that this was what a heart attack might feel like, yet you were very much still alive as you were able to desperately look for a spot to hide again while they hadn’t discovered your presence yet, but lingered by the entrance with the focus on two of them talking.

Out of reflex, as one of them turned into your direction, you fell to your knees and hid behind one of the cars - the matte black one -, suppressing a gasp the moment this exact car unlocked with a sound and flash from afar.

“I’m not afraid of you. I pity you.”

You needed a new spot to remain hidden with footsteps approaching this vehicle. Right now.

“And why would that be, Jaehyun?”

You had to think of something safe, but there was barely time anymore.

“Because you’re going to lose the race today.”

No way in hell.

There was no way in hell these were the racing cars! But of course, now everything made sense as to why those cars were being kept here, you just had been in too much of a panic to have connected the dots.

How you found yourself inside that matte, black car at this moment of realization, you couldn’t tell. Just like you couldn’t tell how you could have hoped to get out of this situation unnoticed all while hiding in a crouching position in the backseat with the only way to escape being visibly passing by these men.

If only you had stayed behind the car or under the car if you were to be discovered anyway, you could have somehow talked yourself out of this situation. But how were you going to explain you had actually sneaked into a racing vehicle? Out of all the dumb things you had ever done, this made it to the top of your list.

You flinched and threw yourself down into the small legroom between the driver’s seat and backseat, when you heard the door in front of you open and a figure seated himself behind the steering wheel.

No way this was your situation now!

Everything was better than ending up inside one of these cars, hearing it start and rolling out of the hall.

This… this situation couldn’t be real.

If you just stayed crouched in the legroom, not giving away a single tone or making a single move, maybe you still had a chance to survive this ride unnoticed. How you would handle this situation when you returned and had to reveal yourself if you didn’t want to be locked inside that car until you died of thirst… that was something you didn’t want to think about yet.

After a few feet, the car came to a stop in the clearing among the spectators, and you made yourself even smaller in case someone might want to get a look inside. By the way the crowd cheered and rejoiced, you hoped that the racer was the Antelope for god knows which reason. They were both racers with the intention to win by all means.

The noise got louder, went from muffled to clear, and you realized the driver had pulled down the window.

“Everything ready?” A male voice.

“I’m ready,” was the driver’s dry answer, a deep voice with a calming, soft undertone.

The engine was raving up, and you were tucked between the passenger’s seat and the backseat in a hole that was too tight, but because of that it was also the safest spot for the ride as there was no room to move anyway. Turning your head against the window at the opposite of you, you only saw light that flooded in and nothing else.

Dear god, you found yourself praying for the first time in your life, please let me live.

“Jaehyun, do you hear me?”

You flinched when you heard another voice.

“Clear and loud.”

“Only ten seconds left.”

“Okay.”

Was he communicating through a two-way radio with someone? You hadn’t expected this race to be so well-planned and coordinated. Was it always like this? This was an interesting and not widely known point. You only hoped your memory would keep all this information saved as you for sure wouldn’t be able to take out your notebook and write everything down now.

This was the journalist inside you taking the upper hand again. If you were already in this situation, you were going to write the hell out of it. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity you would never get again, the exact situation your editor-in-chief had talked about.

This was going to be your headline story. You only hoped what he had promised was true and your company would really bail you out if it came down to this. Or pay for hospital bills. There was no way you would be able to leave unscathed, physically and emotionally.

“Three!” the crowd yelled that you could also hear in the car as though you were standing among them.

“Two!” Your fingers gripped onto leather and something metallic, you couldn’t really tell.

“One!” You closed your eyes.

“GO!”

How equally unlucky and lucky you were to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. Or right place at the right time, it depended.

____

You were absolutely not safe in your hiding spot as expected. You got tossed and flung into every direction possible, and if it weren’t for the narrow space in which you had tucked yourself in, you believed that you would have been hurled into the seat right next to the driver already.

But you were gripping hard onto the cushions like your life depended on it just to prevent this from happening as the car sped through the streets and took every curve with such a sharp edge, you were amazed the vehicle didn’t drive on one side only by then. In your location, you weren’t quite able to catch the car’s speed, but only guessed by the street lights flashing by in less than a single second, which was, in your non-existent experience, quite much.

While the driver was talking to the person at the other end of the radio who was giving him directions and tips, navigating him away from police controls and crowded locations, you started to feel a bit braver with no more sharp curve having come in miles anymore. Most likely, you were on the highway now.

So you slowly arose and got on your knees. Curiosity eventually had gotten the better of you, and you wondered what the world outside looked like. In the end, no matter how you would come out of this, you had to make sure it must have been all worth it.

You had to come to the conclusion that if you moved a bit higher to look out of the window, he might spot your head from his position if he looked in the rear window. With a muted curse, you crouched back down, but instantly got hit by another idea. Dragging the phone out of your handbag was quite an act when you barely couldn’t move, but once you had managed to do so, you inwardly hyped yourself up.

You turned on the camera and pressed the record button, then imperceptibly motioned the phone over your head and let the upper part peek out of your lair with the camera facing out of the window. If he would look, then he would barely see anything, probably mistake the black edge of your phone for a shadow or a part of the car’s interior.

When suddenly a ringing tone broke through the silence inside the car though, you nearly let your device fall with a gasp. You thought you had the ringtone silenced for the entire day already, how was it possible?!

“Hello,” the driver suddenly greeted, and only then it took a load off your mind. It wasn’t your phone that had rung.

“Jaehyun, when will you come home?” The female voice sounded playful, childish. A kid? Perhaps a teenager even?

“Why are you still awake?” The driver named Jaehyun chided with feigned sternness, of whom you still didn’t know what he looked like and whether he was the Falcon or the Antelope. “It’s past midnight and you have school tomorrow.”

“I was waiting for you to come home.”

“But I won’t be home for another hour. It’s going to be late tonight.” The driver sighed, and he sounded very regretful. “I’m sorry.”

“Jaehyun, are you currently racing?”

Silence followed, and suddenly, you felt like you were going to overhear something no one else was supposed to eavesdrop. Like an intruder - which you technically and obviously were since this was obviously a conversation between two family members.

The driver repeated, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I won’t tell mom. I’ll tell her you’re studying in the library again.”

A yawn followed on the other side, and suddenly, you heard the driver snicker. Somehow, it didn’t fit his attitude that you had gotten a glimpse at earlier. Even his responses to the person at the other side of the radio had always been short and curt. But to this young person, he was entirely different.

“I will wait for you. Mom said I shouldn’t, but I cannot sleep if I don’t know you’re home.”

“I’ll come home safe.”

“Promise?”

“Promise, sis. I will always come home safe.”

Your arm that was holding the phone quietly slipped back into your lap, and you stayed silent for a very long time after they had hung up. This was so wrong. You had signed up for an adventure, not to listen to an intimate conversation between siblings that somehow also warmed your heart.

If you had learned anything from it, then it was that the driver was indeed a kind person deep within. It didn’t matter what he did, for what he did it and who he was in the end, Antelope or Falcon. They were people with stories, and if you were the journalist you claimed to be, you needed to look at both sides of the coin and bring out everyone’s own perception.

Wasn’t this what your editor-in-chief wanted? A headline that didn’t go “Illegal street racer makes a comeback! We are the first ones to interview him” but rather “He risked it all for his little sister, and now he’s back - read here about the tragic backstory of one of Seoul’s most dangerous men!” or something along these lines.

After you had gathered yourself again, you looked at your phone while the roads started to turn bumpier now. You assumed you had reached the outskirts and were hopefully on the way back to where it had all started. Gosh, you prayed for that, even though you hadn’t come up with a plan to explain your situation at all yet.

The video on your phone showed you exactly what you had expected to see: nothing but a blur of whites and black. Great. It was useless. But what had you even expected?

“We have a problem.”

You perked up your ears as you heard the other familiar voice through the radio.

“What is it?” the driver grumbled. “Not long and we’ll…” He paused, and even with the missing eye contact, you sensed how the mood had suddenly shifted. “I haven’t seen him in a while…”

“Exactly. There is an undercover police car underway, the informants have just told us, and it’ll stop right where you have to pass through. The Antelope apparently knew about this and already took another route.”

Antelope?! You knew you didn’t want to judge, but out of all possibilities which was 50/50, of course you would have ended up in the Falcon’s aka Jaehyun’s car, the very same person you had mindlessly betted on. What were the odds?

The Falcon snorted. “Now, will you tell me he didn’t set this up himself?”

“No accusations now. Let’s think about what’s best to do. We’re currently in Gangdong-Gu, you somehow have to leave the highway.”

“There is no possibility,” he growled back. “It’s a suburb, there is no way I can pass through it on time and unnoticed for me to win the race.”

“I’ll navigate you the best I can.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. The streets are so short and narrow, it will take too long and is too complicated.”

“You can’t get caught by the police, Jaehyun. And they’re almost right in front of you. It’s better to-”

“Don’t!” he cut the person on the other end off. “I won’t give up. Not this time again. I need this win and money, you know that. It’s my comeback and reputation that I have to restore.”

“But what your family needs is you, more than money or your reputation.”

Silence. Your front teeth sank deep into your bottom lip as you were quarreling with yourself in silence. You knew what was right and what was wrong, what was legal and what was illegal, and what you were currently doing with the driver was far from being within the law as a matter of fact.

But his little sister wanted him to come home so that she could go to sleep…

“HEY!” you screamed and suddenly appeared from behind his driver’s seat.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

The car swerved to the left, hurling you out of your lair and right into the edge of the backseat with a dull pain that shot from your stomach right into every limb. You gasped for air.

“WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU AND HOW DID YOU GET IN HERE?” Despite you still not being able to face him, you got a glimpse of his face when you looked at it through the rear window. Clear anger and also shock was written all over it. You couldn’t blame him. “ANSWER TO ME NOW!”

“Don’t… have time,” you breathed and rubbed your back, getting on your knees and slowly rising from your position. “Gangdong-Gu… that’s where I grew up. I know this place inside out. I’ll navigate you.”

“Jaehyun, who is that with you in your car? That’s a rule violation!”

“I don’t fucking know who this is!” he yelled again, but not as loud as before, and before he could react to your actions, you had already crawled over the expensive interior and settled yourself in the passenger’s seat. “Who are you?!”

With a click, you fastened the seatbelt and looked out of the window. You knew exactly where you were now. “Take the second exit from here. We will pass by within the next two minutes. You will have to drive through a part of the neighborhood to change highways, but you’ll be fine at this hour. Once you have changed motorways, you’ll even reach the destination quicker. Is that a rule violation too? Taking a shortcut through the suburbs?”

You tilted your head and met his flabbergasted expression as he was staring at you with equal intensity where also curiosity was mirrored. “Uhm… usually we avoid that to not accidentally hurt any passerbyers. But…”

“It’s not a violation of the rules,” the person on the radio jumped in quickly. “It’s just unethical and something we would not like to risk.”

“Okay, thanks radio-guy.”

“Welcome, uhm… intruder-lady?”

“I did not intrude!”

“Well, how the fuck would you call this?” the Falcon interrupted.

“I don’t have time to explain now.” Your arm shot up and you pointed at a sign. “Take this exit! Right now!”

From the corner of your eyes, you clearly saw him struggling whether to trust you or not. Fair enough. You were a stranger that had hidden in his car and were now only popping up when it was about winning or losing. If anything, you could have been smuggled in by the Antelope’s team as well. No wonder he was doubting whether he could trust you.

“Screw it.”

You got thrown to the left when he suddenly swerved and left the highway according to your instruction. With your right hand, you grabbed the handle under the window for stability, once again questioning all your life choices. But you had thought long and clear about this. Having decided on helping him would result in the best outcome for your situation.

“Three rules,” he suddenly said when he drove into the neighborhood.

You shook off all your fears, speaking confidently, “I’m listening.”

“First. No word to anyone about what’s happening and what you’re doing right now. Nobody can know you’re in here.”

Why did he sound so intimidating? “Got it.”

“Second, you will lead me through this neighborhood without any incidents. Slow, steady and clear, you’ll be the navigator, the guy at the other side helps you from afar. One wrong turn, one accident or even the danger of one, and one late instruction, and I’ll kick you out of the car right there and then.”

No pressure, no pressure at all, you thought ironically to yourself. “Got it.”

“And third,” a voice on the radio chirped, “Don’t forget to have fun!”

“Shut up, Taeyong.”

“Third,” the Falcon repeated, “when we’re back at the venue, you’ll stay hidden inside here until someone comes and gets you.”

What would happen after, you didn’t dare to ask. Surely, they wouldn’t get rid of you… right? Either way, your fate had been sealed the moment you decided to come watch the race, so you gulped silently and gave a final nod.

The car came to a halt in front of a very familiar street. Everything was dark, empty and quiet. You took a deep breather and the Falcon’s head snapped in your direction. When you faced each other the next moment, you took a spare second to study his face.

If he weren’t in a racing car, you could imagine him very well sitting in a café, sipping coffee and typing something into his laptop, maybe even wearing glasses and ordinary street clothes, possibly even joggers.

He was just a normal dude under all these leather clothes that made him appear very tough, emphasized by this constant scowl on his face that was - admittedly - very handsome. After years in your field of expertise, you could read people very well and only seldomly were you wrong.

“Ready?” he asked, not breaking eye contact.

Neither did you. “Ready.”

The adrenaline flushed through your veins the moment he hit the gas pedal.

____

“Didn’t you sleep much last night?” your co-worker asked when you yawned for the nth time that morning.

What were you supposed to answer?

“I only got home at 4am last night, because I was street racing?”

So instead, you said, “I just couldn’t fall asleep, don’t worry.”

Nobody would believe you. And yet, these were the stories that everyone sought after. But only one ride was not resourceful enough and didn't contain enough substance for a decent plot. You needed the people behind it, the backgrounds and the experiences.

But after you had gotten out of the car, these people have made it very clear to you that you shouldn’t appear in a race ever again, not even as a spectator, and that your lips needed to be sealed for eternity. The fact that they had let you go without any consequences was only out of mercy because you had contributed to the victory - with a violation of rules though.

You had learned pretty quickly though that most of the time, they ignored these rules as long as nobody got hurt as physical incidents that included innocents were the highest breach of violation - just like the Antelope who had apparently cheated like the Falcon had assumed. But since nobody got proof, there hadn’t been more consequences than a few verbal attacks. As long as nobody had seen you inside the car and could prove it somehow, you were fine.

The only person that had thanked and had been nice to you was the Falcon’s navigator, Taeyong. He had even looked very sorry for what you had been through when he had opened the door to the car and you stepped out of the hideout between the backseat and passenger’s seat with shaking legs.

The Falcon hadn’t even looked at you twice when you walked out of the building - with all the money. Yes, surprisingly, they had still given you ten percent of the prize money. It was all rightfully yours since you had been the only one betting on the Falcon. Your bet had been officially registered and you had won, so it was fair and according to the rules that you would get what you earned, Taeyong had explained.

Deep down, you sensed that he only didn’t want to admit they wouldn’t have won without you, and this was them paying off their debt. After all, you hadn’t given out your real name, so they could have just said the betting person vanished. But you didn’t push the topic and saw it as hush money that you luckily needed anyway, and accepted it. Racers had a very high sense of ethics, you had learned by now. A thank you from the Falcon wouldn’t have hurt though. But instead, he had said you should never appear in front of his eyes ever again. What a rude man.

“Okay,” your co-worker said, “shall we go through the index for the next issue and compare the page numbers? Two pairs of eyes work better than just one.”

“Sure! Let me get the notes about what the editor-in-chief said. There were some important points he mentioned that had changed…”

You reached into your handbag to look for your notebook when at that moment, the telephone on your desk rang and showed the lobby’s shortcut number.

“There is someone waiting here for you, miss.”

“Alright, I’ll come downstairs.”

You wondered whether you had actually missed a meeting or an interview that you had set up for a story, but nothing actually came into your mind when you took the elevator and rode downstairs to the lobby.

At the front desk, you asked the lady where your visitor was waiting since you hadn’t spotted a familiar face as you passed by the waiting area. When she pointed at a figure sitting on the couch, slumped on the cushion, you needed to blink twice to match the face with your memories.

“You?!” you then called out when you stood in front of the young man.

He wore a snapback, glasses, joggers and a loose long sleeve. Between his lips, he carried a white stick, and you already wanted to call him out that smoking was not allowed in here when you realized that the stick was too thin to be a cigarette. It turned out to actually be a lollipop. When your gaze fell to his feet, you were able to count every single naked toe as he wore slippers. You were right. He normally didn’t look like this nighttime-self at all. During the daytime, he was just a normal guy who appeared to have just gotten out of bed.

When the Falcon arose from his seat, he didn’t even greet you. Instead, he took the lollipop out of his mouth, round and red, and just thrusted a notebook into your hands. Your notebook - the one you had wanted to fetch from your handbag earlier and which you needed for the meeting with your editor-in-chief later. You had been so sure that it was in your handbag this entire time!

“This was still in the backseat of my car. Take better care of your belongings. And don’t put your business cards everywhere. It’s not everyone’s business where you work or what your contact information is.” He then shrugged, made the lollipop disappear between his lips again and turned aside to walk past you, but you held him back by his arm.

“Wait!”

Slowly, he shifted his head back to you and asked lazily, but clearly despite the sweet in his mouth, “What is it now?”

He shook your grip off, but you just bluntly asked the question that had been on your mind this entire morning, “Let me ride with you one more time, please?”

He drew his brows together as if you had just asked the dumbest thing a woman your age could ask a man. And apparently, judging by his answer, you had done exactly that.

“Are you nuts?”

“You see, I’m a journa-”

“You people really think you’re superior,” he scowled, and you were taken aback. “Making money off of people’s personal stories, aren’t you guys embarrassed? I shouldn’t have returned your notebook at all. You’re all just selfish bastards.”

With a lowly look at you, the Falcon put more distance between you two, and although you were frozen on the spot and dumbfounded at first, you didn’t want to let him leave like this. Clearly, he had a prejudice about you journalists that you had to resolve.

“I’m not one of those journalists that make money off other people!” you told him when you had caught up with him, but by then you were already outside on the streets. “I tell real, verified stories, and only what people allow me to write! Only the truth!” He didn’t reply, but just continued walking, and you decided to follow him. “I’ve never lied or done anything without consent to write my stories. And that is what my editor-in-chief is always criticizing since this apparently holds me back from getting a promotion. In his eyes, I’m a goody two-shoes who doesn’t take any risks. But the truth is… I can’t do that, I’m fine that way! I want to tell the stories with people, I don’t want to tell stories against people! And I think you guys’ story is one very worth telling!”

Suddenly, he stopped in his tracks and you nearly ran into him from behind. One a few inches separated you from each other when he turned around to you and dropped his head to lock gazes with you. “I don’t think what happened yesterday with you breaking into my car was something a goody two-shoes would actually do, but a ruthless journalist.”

You let out a desperate cry. “I told you over and over again, I just wanted to watch the race, then changed my mind and wanted to go home when you guys appeared, and then I panicked! That wasn’t planned, and regarding how close I was to dying, I would choose to not do that again. Which is why I’m asking you formally for permission.”

The Falcon remained silent and inwardly, you raised your hopes up. If you could tell a great story in cooperation with him under an alias and his other friends, that would definitely secure your promotion.

“No.”

Then, he continued his way.

“But why?” You quickly caught up to him again. “I wouldn’t tell you guys’ real names and only write what you want to have written.”

“I don’t have a story to tell except that we like racing.”

“But there must already be a story to that, right?” you tried again, keeping up with his steps this time. “Why did you start? How did you start? How did you learn all this, how do you feel when you’re in the car, how does this whole teamwork function, do your other friends and family know and what do they think about it… I have so many questions!”

“No word about my family,” he interrupted you, the candy now in his hand to speak more insistently, and it didn’t sound like a warning at this point, it sounded more like a threat. “Whatever you heard in the car, you better forget about it.”

A soft spot - you had already discovered that. It was none of your business if he didn’t want to let you in as a stranger, but you also couldn’t stop wondering. “I already got that memo yesterday. But-”

Again, he cut you off. “Great. And if I still catch you publishing an article on what happened yesterday or what you eavesdropped… well, I know where you work and live thanks to your negligence. Goodbye.”

He put the lollipop back into his mouth and disappeared in the crowd. You were tired of chasing after him again, and truth to be told, you could understand his point. Taking a deep breath in, you settled with the fact that you had to change your topic, the promotion gone from your sight again.

Of course you could have written the article without any additional info or the reveal that you were in the car yourself, but then it would only be that, an article. But you wanted a story.

_____

You were scrolling through the internet, looking for new jobs.

You figured that if you were to stick with your old position, you could as well try your luck somewhere else. Perhaps, there were open positions on the same level as your missed promotion for which you could prove that you were qualified or that didn’t require you to do illegal and unethical things.

There were only two days left until you had to hand in your proposal for the story that would cover the next issue, and you still hadn’t come up with something else.

By now, you could also pack your things and leave the city since living in the countryside didn’t sound so bad after all. Sitting by the window all day, watching nature? A dream. But you had chosen to return and to stay in the capital on purpose, a quiet, secluded life didn’t suit your current ideals. You were a writer after all, always seeking for new stories to tell, and you believed Seoul told endless ones.

The ringing doorbell had you spin around on your chair. Your room was small, but it offered enough space for all necessities that only one person needed, which was why you rarely had visitors. And as far as you remembered, you hadn’t invited anyone over.

“Who is there?” you asked carefully as you approached the door.

“It’s me.”

You furrowed. “Who?”

“Me.” Pause. “Jaehyun.”

The Falcon. Lollipop-dude. What could he possibly want after your last argument?

You opened the door, and there he stood in front of you, hair slicked back and donned all in black leather - a stark contrast to a few days ago, safe from the lollipop spinning in his mouth.

He peeked through the halfway opened door. “It’s tiny in here.”

You snapped, “Well, nobody asked you to come.”

“Can I come in anyway? We need to talk.”

“I didn’t write anything!”

He rolled his eyes as you opened the door. “I know, that’s not why I came here.”

You closed the entrance door behind you and watched him standing in your room, a bit too big for your furniture, and also a bit lost in this environment. You struggled biting down a snicker, because this picture was just so surreal.

“What is it?” he grumbled.

You folded your arms in front of your chest and shrugged. “Nothing. So tell me, what do you want from me that even made you come to my home?”

The Falcon turned around to your desk and stretched out his arm, taking something into his hand that must be your notebook he had returned to you. Holding it up, he showed it to you with his back still facing you and asked, “You still want to write this story of yours?”

Perplexed, you could only nod, but as you realized he couldn’t witness your confirmation, you quickly agreed vocally, “Yes! Yes, of course!”

“Three rules,” he then started before slowly shifting back into your sight, the lollipop still in his mouth, and you noted that everything for him came with terms and conditions. How exhausting, three rules again. “You won’t use anyone’s real names. You will only write what I allow you to write. You won’t mention my family or my background. I am allowed to read the entire thing before you publish it.”

“Those are four rules tho,” you remarked, and his eyes narrowed.

The lollipop stopped spinning in his mouth. “I’m outta here.”

“I agree, I agree!” you corrected yourself. “I agree with all the rules!”

“Fine.” He handed you over your notebook. “Now get dressed, we’re going racing. I hope you have black clothes and a leather jacket, because this…” He pointed at your light pink pajamas in which you had changed into as soon as you came home, “is not it.”

Your eyes widened. “Now?”

“Now,” he repeated.

You hesitated.

“Your last chance,” he pushed.

“I’ll get changed.”

____

“I thought I was going to be in the car.”

“Didn’t Jaehyun tell you?” Taeyong asked with a cocked brow.

“Tell me what?”

“That guy…” He touched his forehead and pointed at the seat next to him, urging you to sit down in front of the three monitors standing on the desk. “We need you to navigate.”

“Navigate what?”

“What did you two talk about on your ride here?”

You heaved up your shoulders and let them down again. “Actually nothing.”

The ride in the Falcon’s car to this suburb had been quiet with him focusing on driving and you concentrating on what you could make this story revolve around. No, you had barely talked and had each lived in their own mind.

“You’re going to navigate the race. Basically be his co-driver, but from here, not from inside the car like last time,” Taeyong explained thoughtfully with a smile. “Basically, you’ll do my job, I’ll only be your co-navigator and the team’s manager fully again.”

“Navigator? Eh? I thought I was only going to stay here, writing. Maybe even get the chance to be inside the car again, but since it’s against the official rules, I didn’t even think of that.”

“Wait, he really didn’t tell you anything?” You were both equally confused.

“So I’m not just… observing?”

“Absolutely not.” Taeyong determinedly shook his head. “To be part of the team means to contribute something, and for you to write this story about us, you will also have to do your part. Actually, no outsider is allowed to be with the team during the race, because the risk of cheating and manipulation is too high, so this was the only option. Jaehyun has already fallen out of grace, we cannot allow something negative to be associated with him again when his reputation is just getting repaired.”

You wanted to know why the Falcon had fallen out of grace in the first place, but you came to the conclusion that it was not your time to ask just yet.

“And why me then? Aren’t you guys enough?” You tried to conceal your rising panic. “I can just sit here and write if I’m not allowed inside the car. Maybe do some cleaning of the vehicle before you start or do some promotion work. Something I can actually do. Nobody will notice I don’t have a fixed role in the team. Besides, I don’t even know how to navigate.”

Taeyong tilted his head, his smile growing wider. “But you’ve done an exceptionally good job last time. It doesn’t matter who navigates, the person just has to be good.”

You felt your cheeks getting warm by this compliment. “I barely did anything…”

“And yet, it was enough for him to win after such a long time and have people start betting on him again. He really needs the money, so you better help him win as many races as possible in return for getting a good story.”

Why did it sound like a threat despite his sweet smile?

You sighed. “What do I have to do?”

“Take this.”

Taeyong handed you a headset and instructed you to wear it which would connect your voice to the radio in Jaehyun’s car. Through the first monitor, you had the dashcam’s point of view, which gave you the feeling of being directly in the passenger’s seat, that was not bad. The second monitor showed the car’s location in the city with all streets and buildings through a GPS while the third showed another map but with different red dots spread across the screen.

“Those are police stations and control points.” Taeyong let the tip of his index finger glide over the screen. “... of the ones we know. Spotting cars following Jaehyun as well as unplanned control points popping up will be another challenge. And these devices are police scanners. As you can guess from the name alone…”

At first, you had been excited, but as you got everything explained and shown, it dawned on you how close the driver and the navigator actually had to work, and that the driver had to trust the navigator literally with his life. You didn’t feel very comfortable with that much responsibility weighing on your shoulders. What if something went wrong and he got caught by the police? Would you land in jail then too?

“Today, it’s going to be a cannonball run with two others, meaning Jaehyun will start here, but finish at the other side of the city where most of the spectators are waiting. That’s why there is barely anyone here right now. Of course they want to see the winner. As opposed to last time’s run, this is about time rather than bringing as much distance between the cars as possible. And you know how much the sum is that you can win?” Taeyong’s sweet smile got replaced by a wicked grin. “40 million won.”

“I can’t do this, I’m sorry!”

You jumped out of your seat and ran towards the door, opening it up. The starting point was somewhere in the suburbs where you had never been before, but you didn’t care as you pulled out your phone once you inhaled fresh air that filled your heated lungs, ready to call a taxi.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?”

A huge figure blocked your way, and it only took you one look to first smell his lollipop, then recognize him. Damn, did he ever finish that sweet or did he have an entire stash in his pockets?

“I’m going home!”

“And why would you do that?”

“Because you lied to me! I can’t do this!”

Instead of talking you out of it, the Falcon raised his brows, then laughed, revealing his teeth between the red lollipop. “I knew it. Once a chickenshit, always a chickenshit.”

“A what?!” Your mouth stood agape, wondering whether you had heard right. “How can you say that?”

“I’m only speaking the truth. The first time, you also wanted to escape had it not been for us coming in your direction and forcing you to get into the car, right?”

You faltered. “Hm… okay, yes… but…”

He tilted his head and shrugged. “You dream about big stories, but this is what they will always stay for you: a dream. And you know why?” The Falcon leaned in, and you felt the sudden urge to withdraw, but you were completely petrified. “Because you don’t have the courage and the will to actually make your dreams come true. You're a big talker, a dreamer to put it nicely, but you’re not a doer, someone who gets shit done. I, in comparison, get shit done. And this is why I'm doing what I’m doing and you’re only watching from the sidelines, not being able to type down this story of yours like the goody two-shoes you are. Ever thought about the fact that you won’t get this promotion because you don’t deserve it?”

You weren’t aware that you had been holding your breath the entire time. Only when he approached you further and whispered in your ear, “Now go home, we don’t need someone like you here, we can do it without you”, you were able to exhale again, blood irregularly pumping through your veins while you clenched your fists.

With a fierce gaze thrown at him, you spun around on your heel, opened the door to the hall and yelled, “Taeyong, give me the headset and tell me what to do. For this round, I feel more comfortable with you next to me.” You threw one last look behind you at Jaehyun before you continued, “And next time, I’ll do it all myself.”

The door fell shut behind you, but you could have sworn that you saw the Falcon smiling.

This time though, genuinely. And perhaps partly relieved.

____

You were still shaking when you found yourself sitting in the Falcon’s car again, heading home in the middle of the night after your first race as a co-navigator. The other team members had brought you to the finish line in their car with them to celebrate, but there was not much reason for you to do so as of now. The shock was still sitting deeply with you.

“Everything okay?” the Falcon asked, but it still sounded like coming from another planet as your ears were ringing. “What are you even upset about? We won.”

“What I’m upset about?” you called out. “There could have been so many instances that could have gone totally wrong!”

“But nothing went wrong. Why are you always such a scaredy cat?” You didn’t look at him but straight out of the window. His eye roll was very visible in front of you though. “Just calm down, it’s irritating me.”

“I know everything ended well, but just imagine if a police car had suddenly pulled up. Or if someone had crossed the streets. Inside the car, it was exciting, but as an official navigator, you have so much responsibility…”

“Just enjoy the victory and the amount of money we’re going to share with you. Isn’t that what you wanted?” He murmured something about goody two-shoes again, but by now you were good at ignoring that. “Geez, did you ever have one single day in your life that you could freely enjoy without having a stick so far up your ass? Your poor boyfriend.”

It was the most nonchalant way in which you had ever witnessed the Falcon talk, even though he had mostly said nonsense.

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Yeah, I wonder why.”

You gasped. “Excu-”

The next moment, you tasted something sweet on your tongue. “Close your mouth and suck.”

Instinctively, you did as you had been told as you didn’t know how else to react. The Falcon kept driving the car through the city with his eyes fixated on the road in front of him as though he hadn’t just pulled the lollipop out of his mouth and nearly shoved it straight down your throat.

“Sugar helps me calm down and the motions I need to make distract me from unwanted thoughts,” he admitted, and his voice suddenly sounded so vulnerable that you didn’t dare to respond. “I think you need that now too.”

You slumped back into your seat, suddenly very quiet. You tried not to think much about the fact that his saliva was now in your mouth too, and that you didn’t feel repulsed at the thought at all. He had been right after all. Your hands were not shaking anymore.

“The fact that I participate in those races is because I need the money,” he continued and you somehow sensed that he was currently glad that you weren’t able to look him straight in the face in case you caught his true emotions mirrored there. “And I wanted you to be my navigator, because you had done a very good job the first time around. During the races, you appear to be panicked and disheveled, but you are actually calm and collected, always knowing what you’re doing and never doubting yourself. From the first moment on, I saw much potential in you, and I needed someone like that to strengthen my team.”

“... to win the races,” you finished what he probably thought to himself in silence.

“Exactly.”

“So to you, it’s all about winning?” Your mouth tasted sweet with each syllable, and only now you recognized which flavor that was: cherry. “You wanted me in your team, because you assumed I could contribute to your series of wins?”

“That’s my only life goal. Winning as many games as possible for the money.”

You didn’t know why his answer bothered you. Weren’t you also only on board because you needed to write about this experience to ensure you climb the ladder of success which would eventually also result in money and fame? You weren’t much different from each other. He probably was only a bit more reckless in money making than you.

“I understand,” you agreed when it eventually clicked. He was trying to fool you again, so you corrected yourself, “No, I don’t understand. The way you spoke to your sister… it’s not only about money for you.”

The Falcon scoffed. “Why do you feel the need to peg me as some kind of deep character? Because I don’t fit the narrative of your story?”

This stung. Most likely because he was right. People wanted to read about deep characters, if not about a hero, then about an antagonist who told them how he had become an antagonist. But nobody wanted to read about a greedy, selfish person.

“So the main character of my story is only after money,” you concluded dryly.

“Yes, this is something you can mention in your story. The person you write about is a selfish jerk who only thinks about money.” He let out a laugh, but it rather sounded rather bitter than genuine. “I know it’s not that very deep of a story, but never told you that what you would get was interesting.”

The lollipop clicked against your teeth as you replied, “No worries. I’m a professional.”

He wanted to make himself fit his very own narrative, and you needed him to fit your own narrative. Right now, there was no character to your story.

At home, despite the ungodly hour and your clash of interests, you typed down a summary of your story and handed it in the very next day, even before the deadline. This would be your story, one way or another. You were going to make the best out of it, with the Falcon’s cooperation or without.

____

“He is very popular,” you remarked.

“Oh, he sure is.” Taeyong thrusted a drink into your hand. “He just doesn’t like this attention at all.”

You watched the Falcon getting approached by both men and women who were desperate to talk to him while you watched with your new team from the sidelines. After another race together that the Falcon had won, Taeyong had invited you to something like an after party in some other team member’s big house. You had to work the next morning and didn’t want to stay long, but you supposed you had to do it for the experience and more substance for your article. The more you had to write about, the better.

“Can you imagine that only a few months ago, it was entirely different? Everybody hated him.”

“Hm?” You snapped your head to Taeyong. “Because of the accident he was involved in?”

The look in his eyes was impenetrable, but it softened when he watched his friend. “Yes, but the details to that… I’m sure he’ll tell you himself when he feels the time is right.”

Admittedly, you knew quite a bit already by just going around and talking to people, you were just keeping it a secret since you didn’t want to come off to the team as too nosy or pushy. But none of the spectators you had come to have a short conversation with knew exactly what kind of accident that had been. You had tried really hard to gather all the information, but they just differed too much from each other.

When one assumed the Falcon had hit someone with his car and drove away, the second guessed he had run into someone, but brought them to the hospital. And the third option, and that was the worst, those people believed he had killed someone in that accident. The newspapers that had reported on this case hadn’t mentioned anything more. Just the fact that the Falcon had caused an accident in a suburb that involved an innocent passerby. And that was still enough to fall out of grace in this community, that was how high their ethical standards were.

You wondered why, with such an incident happening that involved all kinds of trope that would make people drawn to it, there hadn’t been any follow-up reports by newspapers and magazines.

Taeyong had once let slip that Jaehyun had only been able to make a comeback after this incident because he had challenged the Cheetah. Apparently, nobody ever did that. And now you were even more curious about the Cheetah, the Falcon’s biggest opponent.

From what you had heard, officially and unofficially, he won all the races and was nearly untouchable. He only challenged someone just to show off how remarkable he was, but nobody ever challenged him. That was an unspoken rule - except for when you wanted to set yourself up for humiliation. And the Falcon had done exactly that.

You looked at your team which was already top notch with a driver who was nearly impeccable. You couldn’t imagine a team that was better. Apart from the one you worked the closest with, Taeyong, there was Johnny, the mechanic, and the one which they call the investigator, though you just believed that he was a hacker in reality - Yuta.

You had seen and worked with them before all the time, but getting to know them privately in peace made you realize one thing: These were all just normal guys who knew each other from university with a not so legal side hustle. They were splitting the winner’s entire sum equally among all of them, and even if they didn’t want that much as the Falcon was the one driving and inheriting the most dangerous part, the latter always insisted on it, claiming they weren’t a work environment, but friends.

The fact that you were now a part of this close knit group, made you feel a bit awkward as you didn’t know them that well yet, but the other fact that they had welcomed you with open arms, safe from the Falcon so far though, and already saw you as one of them, warmed your heart.

Even though the money had sounded very tempting as well and you surely always got your fair share of the work that paid more than a few bills, you were surprised how little it meant to you in the end. You couldn’t really pinpoint it. The races with the team… the preparation, the process, the talks in between, the shared laughter, the banter… you enjoyed this way much more than holding the money in your hands by the next day. It meant so less when everything else hoarded a much bigger feeling that was still so unfamiliar to you, but very overwhelming.

“Ah, there he is,” Johnny whispered to you and pointed at a tall guy, surrounded by other young men and a woman. “The Cheetah and his team.”

“That’s the Cheetah?” you asked. “The one he’s challenged?”

“The best racer out there and someone Jaehyun could never beat, someone no one usually challenges and beats.” There it was. Now, you didn’t need to feign lack of knowledge anymore. “Hopefully, until now. It’s about a lot of money and the people are already anticipating it. It’s gonna be the race of the year. Maybe, Jaehyun will take his crown.”

You hadn’t known it was going to be this big and anticipated. Now, you also understood why people had welcomed the Falcon back despite whatever everyone imagined the accident to have involved. The best and most popular racer against the underdog who had fallen deep, wanting to rise again? That surely made a headline.

“The woman in that team, is she also a navigator?”

“Yes.” Taeyong nodded. “Women are mostly navigators, there rarely are female racers. As of today, I only know of two who are still active. But it’s really hard to recruit women for your team, no matter which position.”

“Because the job is illegal and hard?”

He nodded again. “Women usually don’t want to be involved in illegal activities.”

“... I can relate.”

All eyes now landed on you and you shrugged. “I just really need this promotion, you know that, guys. Just once in life, I want to be fortunate and successful.”

You were glad you could be totally open with them and not get judged, because you all were here for the same reason. This illegal sport benefitted all of you in some way.

“Just like I need money to finance my studies,” Taeyong said.

And Yuta added, “I really want to found my own company in the future.”

“And one day, I really want to move back to the US,” Johnny finished.

You were only people with dreams and ambitions. If you did things like these with all the precautions and didn’t hurt anyone, no matter how selfish or selfless, then was it really wrong to chase after your longings? You still gave the Falcon the benefit of doubt over the incident. Your team was fair and good, you wanted to believe so hard in every single one of them.

Knowing his friends and what they did for each other, you now were a hundred percent sure that there was a deep reason the Falcon always put his life on line too, and that he wasn’t as reckless and as money-hungry as he had first made himself out to be. None of them were.

Taeyong studied to help out his family, because his father couldn’t work anymore. Yuta wanted to open up a company, because his family got robbed of theirs. Johnny wanted to go back to the US to take care of his mom.

“I first thought it all boiled down to money, that glued you together,” you thought out loud. “But I was so wrong.”

It was way more than about money. It was about friendship, family and dreams. Of some things, you had only ever heard of and never experienced yourself - and most likely never would. And as this thought settled, you realized that you were the one doing all this solely for fame. You were the selfish, money-fixated person in this group. You were the one wrong here.

“It all comes down to trust in the end,” Johnny complemented. “Without a tight-knit team that doesn’t trust each other, you cannot make it.”

“But why me?” You frowned. “I didn’t do anything to earn your trust. I’m just here, because you caught me.”

“Oh, but you did win our trust!” Taeyong then objected and Johnny and Yuta nodded along. “With the way you helped Jaehyun when you were stuck in his car, that was the first race he had won after a long while and which has restored his reputation. You didn’t help him because of the money, I heard the entire thing.”

They trusted you? Why was your chest grabbed by a feeling so overwhelming like it was going to explode at any moment? Perhaps, at this point, you could imagine being friends with them too eventually… if they wanted to still have someone as selfish as you around.

“I didn’t want to see him lose,” you reluctantly answered. “At that moment, I didn’t think about a story. I just cared for his sister… and for him.”

Because you never had had the experience of being in a real family, you wanted to protect everyone that still had one. You remembered the phone call the Falcon had made, that he had promised to always come back to her. Basically, you still knew nothing about him, but what you knew was that he was way more than he made himself out to be.

You didn’t need to invent a story about him to fit your narrative. He had fitted it all along. You saw it clearly now.

“Okay, enough with the long faces, guys!”

Johnny threw his arms around all of you and huddled you all together.

“You’re suffocating me,” Yuta complained, though the playfulness clearly stood out in his voice.

“People are looking,” Taeyong worried, but you couldn’t help but to chuckle.

“So what?” Johnny let you all go again and shrugged. “How about a round of drinks for us? I think we all need it now.”

“I’ll get the drinks.”

You all shifted your head in unison and saw the Falcon having moved to your group, no sign of other people anymore, although you could have sworn he was swarmed by them only a few minutes ago.

“What about your fans?” you wanted to know from him and joked, “They all got an autograph already?”

His reply was dry with a gaze just as similar, “I told them to leave me alone.”

“Jeez, Jaehyun,” Taeyong complained, “with a behavior like this, no one is going to bet on you in the future.”

“They shouldn’t bet on who’s the nicest anyway.”

Yes, the Falcon wouldn’t be the winner of a be-nice-award. But when he volunteered to get the drinks and naturally included you, you figured that he didn’t need to voice his kindness. He rather showed it.

____

“Why will you drive me home? Didn’t you drink?”

“Because it’s late and dark, and I need to go home too. And of course I didn’t drink alcoholic beverages this entire time, are you nuts? Now, get in.”

You looked out of the passenger’s seat’s window when the car started rolling, lights flashing by in a blur as you drove through the streets at a normal speed, and yawned. “The party was just getting to be fun, you didn’t have to leave with me.”

“Just take this free ride, will you?”

“Okay.”

You listened to the Falcon’s lollipop clicking against his teeth when he moved it in his mouth and you yawned again.

“I spotted the Cheetah earlier tonight,” you said. “What’s the deal with this big race that’s coming up?”

“So the guys told you, hm.” The movements of the lollipop stick stopped. “Our history runs deep. To sum it up quickly: I can win against anyone, but never against him. I need to break this curse.”

“I get it,” you declared and leaned back in your seat. “You never beat him, so the rage waves just get stacked on top of each other, and the more races you lose, the more you want to win. Just like we journalists fight to have our stories be headliners every month and there is always this one person who snatches them the majority of the time.”

The Falcon sighed. “A weird and out of place comparison, but I guess you’re not entirely wrong.”

You seamlessly continued, “When was your first race against him?”

“I guess when I turned 21. That’s when I started racing.”

“Wow, so many years and no win against him? It must be frustrating.”

“Yeah, just rub more salt into the wound,” he muttered, a bit offended, “but as I said, this is going to end in a few weeks. He won’t be Kind of the Streets anymore. It will be me who will take the crown.”

“King of the Streets?” You asked. “Is that the official title?”

“Just a label we throw around in the community every now and then, but nobody gets literally crowned, if you know what I mean. He’s just been inheriting this title forever, and I’m sick of it.”

“Did you only start because you wanted to win the title?”

“What? Of course not! I started because my fa-” He stopped. “Hey, I know what you’re doing!”

You giggled. “Don’t worry. I didn’t ask you as a journalist, I ask you as your teammate, your navigator. We have made rules and I will stick to them. Is it too much to ask for, getting to know you? We spend so much time with each other, we trust each other, don’t we?”

He became silent. You got him. “I guess so.”

This reply surprised you very much as you hadn’t expected it. But you regained your composure very quickly despite the feeling still lingering in your chest. “How many siblings do you have... Jaehyun?”

It was the first time that you vocally said and thought about his real name. You had been avoiding it, but you couldn’t keep calling him the Falcon. He was human too, although he would remain anonymous in your story.

Jeahyun paused, but eventually replied, “You already know of my younger sister. She’s the only one. I live with her and my mom.”

“How old is your sister?”

“She’s fourteen.”

“So, in middle school.”

“Exactly.”

Where was his father that he had nearly mentioned? You wanted to ask this and much more, but the way his voice had changed by the end, you knew that this was it for today. And it was okay. He should only share what he felt like sharing. Instead, you decided to tell him more about yourself.

“I live alone. My parents divorced when I was a little child, and since my mom moved abroad with a new man directly after, I stayed with my dad. But he was addicted to booze. I had to grow up fast, because whatever role a parent usually played, he wasn’t in the position to take over it. One day, when I was the same age as your sister, he didn’t come home.”

Jaehyun breathed in deeply, and you sensed that he was about to drop a comment, but held himself back from doing so at the last second. You were unsure whether this was a sign to continue or not, but you did anyway.

“He got caught in a hit and run accident. He was the driver. Despite me telling him every day to cut out on the booze or at least never get into the car with alcohol in his system, he always did. And on that fateful day, he took an entire family with him.”

Having this story sealed in your heart for such a long time, you didn’t expect the syllables to fall from your lips so smoothly as though you were retelling someone else’s past and not your personal one. After all these years, you felt nothing anymore.

“Your question from before we got into the car…” Jaehyun started, but refrained himself from ending the sentence.

“If you had drunk something, I wouldn’t have gotten in the car with you. And If you had drunk something during a race, I would have quit right away.” You smiled mildly. “I’m relieved your addiction is lollipops.”

“Why had you agreed on being my navigator?” was Jaehyun’s next question. “You should resent people like me.”

“I can’t resent the world just because I resent my father. I want you to always come home to your sister like you promised her.”

He fell into silence. Perhaps, you had crossed a line, perhaps not. But you wanted him to know that you cared. You collected stories every day from different people and they all affected you, every single fate, more or less. But for him, you didn't care like a journalist for a subject. You cared like a friend.

“I want that too,” Jaehyun eventually responded. “Always coming back home to her.”

You smiled. “Then let’s work together well.”

____

With every race, you got calmer and more professional, and even though you had lost two races so far - as constant wins were an exception anyway except for when you were called the Cheetah - Jaehyun won with you, his team, almost all races, and he rose to the top again, shining as the Falcon in all his glory.

You still weren’t able to shake off your nervousness and slight panic entirely, but you got better in managing those feelings and most importantly, you didn't let it seep through the headset for Jaehyun to feel.

Through the next races, your connection only got stronger as you figured out a way to work silently and peacefully with each other. You even bonded over unfunny jokes and small conversations you held in the car when he drove you home, which he always insisted on - most likely because you were a woman and it was usually the middle of the night.

Jaehyun’s car was his safe space, because he knew whatever you talked about, even though most of the time it wasn’t even something important, it would never leave his vehicle without his permission.

“I never drink alcohol,” he suddenly told you on one of these rides home when you both got out of the car as you had decided to make a short stopover. “I never know when my sister or mom will need me since my father is not here anymore.”

It was the first time in a long while you talked about something other than the races, teams, your job and other trivial things. You had rarely talked about his personal topics ever since that one time. You were happy to hear that you finally reached this point again, and the conversation was even opened up by him.

Jaehyun seated himself on the car’s hood and you carefully crawled up to him. He made space for you and reached out his hand when you teetered, securing you while you settled right next to him. After having taken your place, you followed his gaze and encountered a view that you hadn’t seen before.

He had wanted to drive out of the city after this race just to clear his head, and you had complied despite this late hour. Now, you were watching the sunrise from the top of a hill on an early summer morning, wondering how a moment like this, that you had never dreamed of before, was suddenly making you so happy.

“Where is your father?” you finally dared to ask, because the moment felt right.

“In prison for fraud,” Jaehyun deadpanned. “He committed a huge tax evasion crime with his own company, not only taking the business down, but all of our savings as well along with the family’s reputation.”

You were shocked. “I don’t know what to say… I’m so sorry, that’s horrible.”

“He consciously did that, knowing exactly the outcome of his actions, what it’d cause us, what it would make of us.” His blood was boiling, it was palpable. “And now, my mother is working two jobs just to make the ends meet and pay off the debt because of this selfish, money-hungry bastard.”

Jaehyun… was he racing to support his family too, just like his friends? Because a son who described his father as a selfish, money-hungry bastard couldn’t be one himself.

“I guess we both grew up with father figures we couldn’t really rely on.”

On top of the car were sitting two people with inner children that had been abandoned by their parents at some point. But you both had learned to make it through life without them. Screw them, you were going to make it better than your parents.

“I don’t want my sister to grow up thinking all men are like our father. I’m not the perfect example for an older brother, but I would do everything to give her the life she wants, such as illegal car racing just to open up the possibility to her of enrolling into her preferred university.”

So that was why and always, it was about winning races for him. Even though he had claimed otherwise in the beginning, he was not someone superficial who only cared about fame, you had always known. He cared about his family, and friends. And, as someone who hadn’t grown up with the first, it was pretty touching that a brother would do that for his sister. Nobody had ever done that for you and you didn’t have someone who would even consider doing this for you, too.

“You sister must be really proud of you.” You smiled. “You’re a good person, Jaehyun.”

Suddenly, he turned cold. “Easy for you to say, knowing only this side of me.”

These words hurt you after spending quite a lot of time with each other.

You had gotten to know his friends and now some of his backstory. You knew you were in no position to feel this way considering that he didn’t see you as his friend yet apparently. Still, it stung somehow.

“When I was your sister’s age, I would have loved to have an older brother by my side who cares so much about me. I was all alone, but your sister has you. Whether you see yourself as a good person or not, Jaehyun, it doesn’t matter to your sister at all. You’re good in her book, that’s enough.”

“I appreciate you saying that.” He was being sincere, judging by his voice. “My sister doesn’t endorse my… side hustle. But she accepts it without a complaint, because she knows that’s what gets us through. My mom on the other hand… You know how moms are. So we keep it a secret from .”

No, you actually didn’t. And Jaehyun only realized that when he saw how your face fell. “I shouldn’t h-”

Yet, you tried to overplay it with a shrug and a wave. “It’s okay. It slips off most people’s mind, because having a family is something we suggest everyone has. I don’t blame anyone for thinking the same about me.”

“It’s not okay, I’m sorry for speaking so nonchalantly,” Jaehyun replied determinedly, taking you aback. “I will pay more attention to what I’m saying from now on.”

Nobody had ever reacted that way to such a sand trap. You were really surprised how understanding he actually was. “It’s not like I grew up not knowing what a family should be like,” you continued. “I saw it in the foster family that took me in until I left high school. I saw it in my friend’s family who I spent most days with. I saw it walking through the mall passing by parents with their happy children. I know exactly what it should be like having a family, I just never had one of my own.” You dropped your head, tilting the corners of your lips slightly upwards. “But one day, I dream of having one and do it all better.”

The silence that followed made you realize how bright outside it had already gotten, and also that you had just confessed your deepest wish to someone who didn’t even consider you his friend. It had something slightly embarrassing, but also comforting, because you knew he would understand you nonetheless.

But Jaehyun didn’t say anything back directly, and you felt a bit lost. It wasn’t like you didn’t feel validated or overlooked, the gaze in his eyes reflected nothing but understanding after all. Perhaps, he just wasn’t as good at expressing his thoughts as you. And that was fine as you were a writer after all. As long as you could comprehend what seemed to go on his head, you were fine with the way you communicated. It was this fine bond between the racer and the navigator.

“Get up, we’re getting breakfast,” Jaehyun eventually prompted.

It sounded great after a good race so you didn’t complain. “Okay!”

Jaehyun was already back on the ground while you still struggled getting off the hood without slipping. That was until you felt two strong hands gripping onto your sides and heaving you up as though you were as light as a feather. You could have sworn when you got inside the car, his hand lingered on your waist a bit longer than it needed to. But it could all have been in your tired mind as well.

____

You hadn’t known breakfast would be taken in Jaehyun’s house.

“Please come in and eat, dear, we have enough!”

His mother was a cordial person whose smile brightened up the entire home upon entering. You instantly felt welcomed by her cheerful personality.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” you greeted her back and kind of awkwardly followed her into the kitchen where she had already set up the entire breakfast table for four people after Jaehyun had called her from the car to inform them they would have a guest over.

Different main and side dishes were presented, and you didn’t know where to look let alone what to eat first. You could tell Jaehyun’s mother had gone beyond and above to prepare this breakfast as he had given you a heads up that she usually left very early and came home late just to sleep the little time she had remaining. Yet, she never failed to eat breakfast with her children or at least make food for them every single day. That was motherly love.

You suddenly felt a wave of warmth spreading through your body. She wasn’t your own mother, but right now, you felt very much like part of a family you had never gotten to experience yourself. And Jaehyun had wanted to show you.

Tears welled up behind your eyes as you took a seat at the opposite of him, and you tried to hide your sentiment, yet still sneaked a look at him. His soft gaze, he hid behind his long fringe. His caring demeanor, he hid behind his rough words. His apparent worries, he hid behind a long scowl. But this was all a facade for what he truly was: a loving son and brother and so much more than a money-hungry, selfish racer.

“Did you guys study hard for the exams the entire night?” Jaehyun’s mom asked and you tilted your head in confusion.

“Yes, mom,” Jaehyun replied. “But she’s not a student anymore, I just picked her up on her way to work.”

She turned to you. “Really? What occupation do you inherit, dear?”

You looked into Jaehyun’s direction for approval, but he remained silent and nodded, so you told the truth, “I’m a journalist.”

“Really?” She clapped into her hands and laughed. “Jiyeong wants to become a journalist too!”

Before you could ask who Jiyeong was, a female voice already asked, “What’s with me?”

She didn’t look much like her brother. In fact, from the moment you saw her, you thought she was the spitting image of her mother, both very beautiful.

“Jaehyun’s friend here is a journalist, Jiyeong. Isn’t that amazing?”

“Really?” Jiyeong’s eyes started to sparkle and she approached you, seating herself right next to you. “I’m editor-in-chief at our school’s newspaper! Where do you work? I read almost all newspapers and magazines on a daily basis.”

While you were explaining to Jiyoung what articles were written by you of which she indeed remembered one or two, their mother placed rice in each of your bowls along with Jaehyun’s help.

You now knew why he had wanted specifically you and came back to recruit you not only once, but twice. The first time, he had most likely not thought about involving you yet. With his sister being into journalism, he knew how important your notebook was to you and genuinely only wanted to return it. The second time, he actually came around and wondered why not combine your talent for navigation with your occupation and get at least something out of your deal, not only for you, but for him - and his little sister - too.

“My dream is to attend Ehwa Woman’s university,” Jiyoung told you when you all started eating. “Where did you study?”

You smiled. It had been your dream to go to Ehwa too. But you didn't have money or relatives who could have supported you, so you attended a university far away from Seoul that was cheap in comparison. “I went to Chonnam University in Gwangju.”

“And you came back here and made it so far! I really look up to you!”

You flushed as you had always felt inferior to your colleagues who had attended the big and popular universities in Seoul, but Jaehyun’s sister not judging you by that but complimenting your actual skills touched you very much.

“Now, let her eat, Jiyeong! She hasn’t even come to touch her food yet! Please dig in, dear before it gets cold!”

It was your first breakfast together with loving people in many, many years.

When you stood outside with Jaehyun, waiting for his sister to get her backpack for school so that he could drive her there, you told him, “Thank you for introducing me to your mom and sister. I know why you did that.”

Because he wanted to show you what it felt like to have an actual, loving family. Because he wanted to show you that your work was never for vain. He had eventually become your friend, and you his. Yes, friend. But you didn’t speak it out.

“When I found out that you were a journalist, I immediately thought great, I need to introduce you to my sister!... But journalists also destroyed my life by writing articles not only about my dad’s crimes, but also about me,” Jaehyun explained, and you nodded, knowing it was about the mystery incident he had yet to tell you. “My sister never lost focus of her dream though. She told me she wanted to be one of the good ones, no defamation, always after the truth. So when you told me you were one of these people too, I thought that maybe, I can trust you after all, even with my life.”

“And you can!” You touched his arm in a gesture of comfort, and although his eyes widened, he didn’t pull away. “I stand by what we’ve promised to each other. I won’t publish anything without your consent. And if there is anything in the past that I have to clear up for you and your family, I will do so too.”

“Mhmm.” You saw him struggling through his mien, but he didn’t respond, apparently still needing to make his mind up. If so, you let him.

“So, what do you study? You never told me.”

“Nothing.” He heaved his shoulders and slowly dropped them again.

You frowned. “But didn’t you-”

“I dropped out last semester right after the incident.”

“But your mo-”

“- doesn’t know. Neither does my sister.”

You didn’t want to judge, that was not your job, as a journalist and as a friend. So you asked, “Why?” although you could most likely already make out the answer.

“We can’t afford it as of right now, so I’m postponing my graduation. I definitely want to return, but as always, it boils down to money,” Jaehyun clarified. “I want to do it better than my father. I want to found my own company too and provide to my family the life they deserve. Even if the path to this aim might not be all legal, I promised to myself to leave this part of me behind once I’m there.”

“...And I will do everything in my might to win every race for as long as we’re working together, Jaehyun.”

“For my sister? Or for your story?”

“Not only for me, but also for your sister,” you repeated, “for your mom and for y-”

You swallowed the last part, but the way his features softened suddenly, he might have understood nonetheless, and it made your heart flutter. Perhaps, in his eyes, you were now friends as well.

____

“There is nothing personal in this story.”

You felt defeated. You had hoped, with handing in your first draft, your editor-in-chief would be totally invested in the story as well, encouraging you to continue and maybe even compliment you on the premise. Instead, while reading through all the pages with you sitting anxiously in front of him, his facial expression had fallen more and more.

“What do you mean?”

“The beginning is very intriguing with you sitting in the car, racing with him. It’s perfect, the reader gets thrown right into the story. But after that?” He shrugged and threw the papers back on his desk. “Nothing. No feelings, no emotions, just scenery description and a lot of theoretical stuff. Nobody cares about how the navigation system works or how the cars are tuned.”

“Oh, I thought it might be interesting to read how the team stays connected and what makes the cars so special.”

“Nobody cares,” he retorted dryly. “That’s not the stories people like to read. They can google all that stuff.”

Although it hurt your feelings, you had to silently admit that he was right. You hadn't given much away in the article about how Yuta worked behind the scenes or what the navigation system was really capable of according to Taeyong, but had to google a lot of things yourself too. You had wanted to give as little personal details away as possible, but apparently, it was too less. Your article was just boring.

“There is no common thread,” he criticized sharply. “Do you want to write about yourself being involved, about the sports in common or about the Falcon? Because right now, it’s all of this and nothing at the same time. If you’re that involved, write about what you do, how you learned it, about your feelings during the races. If you write about the sports, interview other teams, the spectators, dive into the history. If you center the plot around the Falcon, what’s his background, what does he race for, what’s his aim?”

You exactly sensed which direction he wanted to push you. “I’ll write abo-”

“I think,” he cut you off, “if you want to make it a headliner, you have to focus on the Falcon.” There it was. “Why did the Falcon really pause for so long? Is it true that he had caused an accident during a race? What really happened back then? How did he regain his fame? What made people change their minds? And most importantly, is he going to win and what will he do with the prize money? These are the questions that intrigues the reader. They want emotions, passion, they need to feel something while reason. Right now, everything I’m feeling is my hunger since it’s almost lunchtime.”

You purposely overheard his subtle taunt. “Those are very personal questions that he doesn’t want to talk about.”

“Well, then make him.”

You kept it to yourself that you already knew most answers. “As journalists, we also have to respect the people’s privacy and opinions.”

“Then make the entire story anonymous with all the personal information gathered,” he proposed. “It’s not less personal, but no names are given away.”

“I already plan on doing that.”

“So what’s the problem?”

”People will still know, that’s how known he is. I cannot reveal things he doesn’t want me to reveal.”

Either way, anonymous, with his alias or even real name written in the article - it would hurt him all the same. It was his personal story, his family, his friends. It made him beautifully human, but also painfully fragile. It was his story to tell when the time was right, when he decided to do so, not you.

“Very well.” Your boss got up from his seat and took his jacket. “You can publish it like this if you want. I guess for a nice closing story at the end of the magazine, it's enough.”

For the first time in your life, you were having a clash of interest. There it was in front of you, your dream job position, so close if you were only selfish enough. And behind you stood the man whose trust you had just gained, begging you to respect his past wounds. What would you do?

____

It wasn’t easy, balancing racing by night and working by day. Oftentimes, you didn’t get more than four hours of sleep, spending time at home after work just to shower, change and then leave for a race again. You didn’t complain. You never did, because you enjoyed it very much. The newly formed friendship between you and Jaehyun’s team was something that brightened up your day as you had never experienced this kind of bond before. But you also didn’t leave your aim out of sight.

With Jaehyun’s rising popularity though also came people who voiced out their doubts about him even louder. You had just finished this night’s race and were waiting for Jaehyun to take you home, already looking forward to a bit of alone time with him, when you overheard a group of young men passing by.

“I don’t care what others think or whether he’s popular,” one of them said. “As long as he’s staying silent, he’s guilty in my book.”

“In mine too,” the second chimed in. “Why has he never said anything on that topic? And now, only because he’s winning so often and challenged the Cheetah, everybody seems to have forgotten about it? Bullshit.”

Your fingers clenched by the time the third one commented, “Don’t worry guys, he’ll fall out of grace as far as he has fallen. It’s always like this.”

“Hey!” Now, you couldn’t listen to this conversation any longer and stepped out of your dark corner. “Do you feel proud, talking like this about a person you don’t know?”

They stopped in their tracks and turned around to you. “And who are you?”

“Oh, I think she’s their navigator!”

One of them stepped in front of you and grinned. “Then, you must know the truth if you’re in the team and fight for him so desperately, right?”

The other two followed suit and laughed in unison. “Or are you in love with him and would defend him even though he’s guilty?”

You realized that you actually didn’t care about the truth anymore. You didn’t care when or whether Jaehyun would tell you one day at all. But that didn’t withhold you from defending him like your life depended on it. Someone who loved his family and friends so dearly, who always paid much attention to the street and passerbyers, who had to talk you into taking a detour just because there was a crowd of people he had to race by… you would always defend your racer.

“The truth is none of your business,” you said confidently. “Do I ask about what mistakes you’ve made? A person I do not know personally? What has this got anything to do with his performance anyway? Either you bet on him or you don’t, but nobody forces you. He doesn’t need your dumbass opinions to win, he doesn’t even know who you are.”

“Hey…”

You couldn’t tell who had spoken up, but you didn’t care much as you just hit your stride. “How about you get in the car and try to do the things these racers do? I bet you wouldn’t even last a few minutes on these streets. It must be so peaceful, watching from the sidelines with your big mouths as long as you’re not the ones in action, am I right?”

“Hey!”

Little did you know that the voice had come from behind you. Only when you felt an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close to a chest whose scent smelled very familiar, it dawned on you that no one in the group had tried to speak up, but it had been Jaehyun who was standing behind you, most likely all this time already.

But he wasn’t mad, even though your cheeks were burning. “Listen to my girl. If you dare to raise your voice against her again, you’ll be the ones the newspapers will be writing about the next day. Understood? Now, good riddance.” One opened their mouth to retort, but Jaehyun didn’t let him. “I SAID GOOD RIDDANCE!”

They were out of your sight quicker than you could process, and Jaehyun let go of your shoulder the same moment.

“Come,” he urged you, and you silently followed him to the car. “I have to show you something.”

After you were driving for a little while all in awkward silence, you finally dared to ask, “Where are we going?”

“I’ll show you the truth.”

From the way his lollipop clicked against his teeth, you could only sense Jaehyun’s anxiety, and you wondered what got him so worked up even though he had won the race. You could only think of one reason. Perhaps, today was the day.

“Does it have something to do with what happened back then?”

“Yes.”

“Did I say something wrong earlier?”

Immediately, the clicking noises stopped, but he gripped the steering wheel even tighter. “You’ve gotten everything wrong.”

Your stomach dropped and you suddenly felt so nauseous. “Jaehyun… what was wrong about it?”

He was visibly upset now. “How can you say all these things about me?”

“These.. things? What did I say that was wrong? I don’t understand. I meant every word and I don’t care whether you heard them or not, because they are the truth.”

“You don’t know the truth.” He added, “Yet.”

“Even if… There was nothing wrong with what I said. You don’t need them to win, you don’t need spectators and betters. You only need yourself and your team. Everything else doesn’t matter.”

He didn’t reply, but kept his eyes fixated on the street in front of him. Not much talking, but many kilometers later, you suddenly came to a halt in a narrow street under a light post in a quiet neighborhood in the suburbs. To your left and right were single family houses and nobody was in your field of vision at this ungodly hour.

“Is this…?”

He took the lollipop out of his mouth and inhaled deeply. “This is where it happened.”

“Oh. Jaehyun…” You had been prepared to be taken here, but now that you were actually at the location, you didn’t know what to say.

“This is the spot where I collided with a pedestrian.” Even though he didn’t stutter or pause, you still realized how much mental strength it had taken him to not only bring you here, but to also speak about the incident - probably for the first time ever since it had happened. “He didn’t die on the spot. He survived, actually. That much, I know after I asked around in the hospital. I don’t know who he was, where he was going, whether he had family or other people who cared. I just called for an ambulance, drove my car away and remained hidden until they arrived. Then, I fled. This is the truth.”

You couldn’t deny that you were relieved he didn’t do a hit and run. You were also relieved that nobody had died and that the truth behind the accident was something that wouldn’t shake your friendship to the core. Of course it was bad, and he knew it himself. He’d always known and deeply regretted it, every single day. You saw it clearly now.

“I believe you.”

In moments of panic, humans were indeed most likely to do things they were not proud of, things totally wrong they wished to change later if only they could travel back in time. Things, they would have handled differently if they hadn’t panicked or were too scared. Jaehyun wasn’t an exception, although the baggage he had to carry was heavier than most else’s.

Humans were not perfect. For him, it all started with his not so perfect father and the not so perfect life he was living, leading him to do not so perfect things to save what was still salvageable.

“For one hot minute,” Jaehyun continued, “I really thought about leaving him there and fleeing as fast as possible. I couldn’t go to jail like my father and leave my mom and sister all to themselves, dropping them entirely too. I couldn’t get caught, so I did my best to prevent this.” He laughed, bitterly. “After all, I am what people think of me. So your words mean nothing.”

“My words mean nothing?” It hurt. “It’s easy to tell someone how to behave when the incident has already taken place. But at the end of the day, we can never be sure how we, ourselves, would have reacted or what we would have thought at that moment. You thought about your mom and sister, but you thought about the accident victim too. You wanted to do the best for both. So you reacted accordingly to what was best in your mind.”

“Still, I’m not the person you painted me to be. I nearly killed someone in a race. And you know why? Because I thought taking a shortcut through a neighborhood would make me win the race back then. It’s not forbidden, but this is the reason we racers usually never do that.”

That was why he had been so reluctant to go through your neighborhood at your very first accidental race together. And he still wouldn’t, no matter how much he trusted you. What had happened back then was still sitting deep within him - justifiably.

“I am running illegal races with you,” you started. “I have always known that you wouldn’t work with the law. And I am neither! So what does that make us?”

He sank his head and placed his hands on his lap. “You speak so highly of me, but in reality, I am a very bad person.”

“You’ve introduced me to your sister and mother, Jaehyun. If this is where a bad person grows up, then the entire world is rotten and beyond the point of saving. But people like you give me hope.”

“Why would a person like me give you hope?”

“Because, despite your situation, you still have so much love inside of you that expresses itself in so many forms. That’s why you’re loved too, by many people.”

Silence engulfed you, and you thought that Jaehyun would drive away after sometime again, but he didn’t, so you accompanied him in this quietness as long as it helped him process the past.

“You know why I wanted to take this shortcut?” he eventually spoke up quietly, and you shook your head. “Because I wanted to end the race abruptly and rush home… That night, my sister got very sick and my mom wasn’t home. I already announced that I would drop out before it happened.”

That was something the newspapers and no one else had ever mentioned. Of course, people always focus on sensational facts. It was easier to tell a story and transfer emotions when the main feeling an article would lure out was hate against someone.

It still had been a crime, this was a fact. And he could still go to jail for that. But you believed that the man who cared about his family so much and who was able to care about strangers too, was still very much haunted by his past, far more than he wanted to let slip through his facade.

If he hadn’t had a family to take care of, things would be entirely different. But he trusted you enough now to tell you all this and not fear that you would go behind his back.

My girl… you remembered. Had he truly meant it? Had you proven to him your undeniable loyalty just earlier?

“Jaehyun…”

Slowly, your hand wandered to his lap on top of his. Against your expectations, he grabbed yours and squeezed it tightly.

____

When Jaehyun wanted to drop you off at your building much later, the tension between you was still palpable, and you didn’t know how to make it vanish.

Perhaps, only time was needed - for him to believe that nothing had changed between you, and for you to settle with the fact that the guy who caused your heart to jump, just only a little bit, had done something grave in the past that you had to work through as well. After all, it still had been a crime.

“Jaehyun…” You wanted to end the night on a positive note, but he didn’t let you finish the sentence.

“Our ways will part here and now.”

You thought you had misheard. “Pardon?”

“I can’t demand a goody two-shoes like you to help a criminal like me,” he said coldly and stiffened in his seat. “And I surely won’t help a goody two-shoes like you write about my criminal record anymore now that the truth was inevitable to come forward with. So it ends here. Now.”

You knew where this rooted from: doubt and guilt. But during your entire career path, you had dealt with a lot of people who suddenly changed their minds on a topic or got cold feet.

“That won’t happen, Jaehyun,” you claimed. “You don’t have another navigator as good as me, no one and nothing can come close to the connection that you and I have.”

“It’ll be fine,” he obliged. “Now, go.”

“No,” you refused. “I will stay.”

“I SAID GO!”

“AND I SAID I WILL STAY!”

“Gosh!” he yelled. “Why can’t you be obedient for once towards me and leave before I hurt you too?!”

You both froze when it dawned on you what he had just said. You almost didn’t dare, yet you had to make sure that what he had said was indeed real.

“You’re afraid to hurt me?”

“I deceive my mom when it comes down to my activities and my studies. If she ever finds out, she’ll be hurt. I hurt my sister by not always being there for her whenever she needs me. I hurt my team for expecting them to be there for me although they have their own struggles. And I hurt you, because I cannot be the person you expect me to be. I only hurt the people I love.”

You took a deep breather and waited a few heartbeats in case Jaehyun wanted to chase you away again. But he didn’t. He just sat there in the driver’s seat, shoulders slumped, bangs messily falling into his eyes and the lollipop stick not moving a bit.

“You want to protect your overworked mom from more worries, you want to provide a good future for your sister, and you split the win evenly among the team for them to help their families too. If I don’t expect a friend to be exactly like this, then what else?” you confessed.

But Jaehyun didn’t like this answer, it was written all over his face. You were scared that you had said something wrong.

“Friends?” he suddenly croaked.

“Yeah, friends,” you repeated slowly. “Aren’t we… friends?”

You had seen him as your friend all along, though one who made your cheeks warm when he called you “my girl” and your heart swell when he touched you. But now, it hurt you that he had never felt even the slightest of the same connection. Fair enough, everyone needed their own space, and with Jaehyun’s past, it was his own right to decide whether to ever make friends again.

You had just hoped…

Cherry.

That was the taste of Jaehyun’s lollipop, he never chose another flavor.

Though, it tasted different from his own lips than from the candy directly.

You were asking yourself how this sweet taste could calm him down when all it did to you at this moment was making your heart race and nearly jump out of your chest. Perhaps, because this time, you tasted the lollipop’s sweetness on his tongue rather than in your own mouth, and he made sure that you experienced every taste bud this flavor had to offer.

Lollipops were very sweet already, and although Jaehyun was a fast and restless street racer, his kisses were much sweeter than candy. Admittedly, you hadn’t expected him to possess this side, but now that you thought about it, the signs had already been there whenever you observed him eating the candy.

Jaehyun’s fingers curled on your back when you motioned forward, away from your seat and more into his welcoming hug. The dashboard between you hindered you from embracing fully, causing you both to giggle at some point, but you continued kissing with your arms slung around his neck, for very long even after the cherry taste had vanished.

You weren’t hurt anymore over the fact that Jaehyun didn’t see you as his friend. You had never been friends. You had always been more than that.

____

Jaehyun’s victim had been a 45-year-old party chairman - that much you had found out through your connection to different journalists and a few demanding calls. The fact that after the incident, only silence followed and no details were revealed, not even about the gender and the age of the victim, had gotten your alarm bells ringing. And now you knew why.

A famous politician involved in a street racing accident, but no one had mentioned his name? Something was not right with this story, you didn’t need to be a professional to recognize this.

“I need his record,” you then said at the hospital’s reception.

Your editor-in-chief had given you this employee’s contact, assuring you she was more lenient in data protection when she saw the right amount of money. And your boss had been very happy to pay her the requested amount the moment you told him what you were after.

“This is exactly the kind of story I was looking for,” he had complimented you. “Good job. Now, go after it.”

You had left the building right away, making your way to the hospital the chairman had been admitted to after the accident.

“Here is a copy of his record,” the woman at the reception whispered to you. “All is well, he got out after two weeks. There is one interesting thing though… but look for yourself.”

“Thank you.”

You took the papers, and too excited to drive all the way back to the office, you looked through them right then and there after having found a quiet spot in the waiting room.

There was nothing abnormal at first for a car accident. It had left him with deep grazes, a dislocated arm, two broken ribs and a concussion. It sounded quite bad, but very mild for the fact that a car had hit him, and not at all life-threatening. So the accident had not been that severe as Jaehyun had made out to be in his panic.

Perhaps, that was the reason the party chairman had never been named in the news. But on the other hand… newspapers got to write articles about important politicians all the time, and just this once, his name had been left out? This didn’t sound like something a newspaper would do under these circumstances.

The more important the name, the more clicks and sales the news generated. They must have been bribed to keep his name entirely out of all news revolving around this incident. You were wondering yourself why. Given all facts, no matter how macabre it sounded, this kind of accident would even play into the party’s hands.

A very important politician who got hit by a street racer and admitted to the hospital with fractures? It would even be a headliner with the conclusion to go harder after such illegal activities.

Everything just doesn’t sound right. Something was being kept buried that no one should know about and could possibly threaten the party’s reputation. That much, you were already sure of.

… but what could it be?

You gasped when your eyes passed the passage that gave you a single answer to all your questions.

Patient was heavily intoxicated.

Whether it were drugs or alcohol, you didn’t know. But you were going to find out soon as you returned back to the office and made a call to the police.

____

“How high is the possibility that this program is actually a virus?” you asked and looked over Yuta’s shoulder who was currently typing something into his laptop.

“Very low, but it’s still new, so we never know what will happen anyway,” Taeyong answered on his friend’s behalf and stretched out on Yuta’s bed in whose home you had all gathered today. “Can’t you detect it if it’s one?”

“What do you think I’m currently trying to do here?” Yuta rolled his eyes. “I’m a programming student, not a wizard.”

“Okay, sorry? Jeez.”

“Doyoung said that with this program, you will also get the coordinates of all cars in your ten kilometer radius that use a GPS, so you can plan the route and the car’s speed even more predictively,” Yuta explained instead. “I’m still trying to figure out how.”

“The race is in two weeks. You should hurry.”

“I know, Taeyong. You think these last weeks I’ve only been sitting around?” Yuta gave his friend a scowl. “If it’s a new program, even used before its beta phase, it’s not so easy.”

“Yeah, but-”

“Okay, enough guys!” you interrupted their bickering. “Taeyong let Yuta work and peace and rather go through the city's plan for next week with me to mark all new construction sites, okay?”

In unison, they both said, “Fine.”

Taeyong turned to you while you started your own laptop to leave Yuta alone, and Jaehyun and Johnny were currently outside to maintain his car. You felt so included like never before in your life.

You’ve always said you didn’t grow up with a family. But sometimes, a family wasn’t something that you necessarily grew up with. Family also didn’t need to be bonded by blood. Sometimes, you lost family along the way, sometimes you gained one. And everyone would always welcome you into their family.

In your case, you gained a family in the form of a strong friendship that you had never experienced before in your life. Sitting here, analyzing maps with Taeyong while Yuta was silently typing away and Johnny and Jaehyun would soon come upstairs to talk about the next race after which you would all order food and then watch a movie together…

This was your own definition of family. This feeling of being cared for, trusted and loved without expecting anything in return, so much that it almost felt like your heart was going to burst. Your team was your family.

“I want to show you a place,” Jaehyun said when you were sitting in his car when all the work was done later that evening.

“Don’t you need to go home as usual?”

“My sister is having a sleepover at a friend’s house.” He smiled. “So I think my mom will enjoy a little more alone time to rest better.”

“Okay, then let’s go!”

Jaehyun stopped the car only much later after you had driven up a mound with a path so narrow, you feared the vehicle wouldn’t make it despite all its tuning. But against your expectations, you arrived at the top in that very same car, and the view over the entire city was splendid.

“I didn’t know such a place existed!” you called out and ran around the viewing place. “Jaehyun, I can see the entire city, and we’re not even on a mountain!”

“Do you like it?” he asked, following suit.

“I love it!”

“And I-”

“Hm?” You turned around to him with the biggest smile on your face. “What is it?”

He shook his head with a soft look on his face. “Nothing.” Then, he stepped close to you and hugged you from behind. “I’m happy you love it. It’s my favorite place. After the incident with my father happened, my sister and I came here a lot, because it made us forget reality for quite a while.”

“Thank you for sharing this special place with me.” You felt him kissing the nape of your neck and you shuddered pleasantly. “It really means a lot.”

The true meaning of it was revealed to you by him right after, “I spent most of the time here before my comeback. I wanted to give up on racing entirely. One night, I didn’t come home and my sister went to look for me which took her all night. I lost track of time, and I probably felt so ashamed returning to my family. When My sister found me here at the early hours of dawn, looking like a ghost and having cried all the way to this place, I knew that I had to do everything to protect my family. That’s when I dropped out of university and decided to race again. One day, I don’t want to do this anymore. One day, I’ll be free.”

You loosened yourself from his hug, shifted around and embraced him now from the front, body to body. “You’ll be one day, Jaehyun.” He gently brushed his fingers through your hair. “One day, you can provide your family the life they deserve and can finally live the one you have dreamed about as well.”

“But do I deserve it after everything that I’ve done?” He sounded full of doubts. “I’m not sure.”

You responded, quite confidently, “You do.”

“Actually,” Jaehyun changed the topic, “This car was my dad’s. He owned two, a big, elegant one to show off at work, and this one for his free time. It’s the only thing that was left, because it was registered to my mom’s name before I changed it to mine.”

You were curious about one topic. “Why did you never sell it? You only started racing after his arrest, right? Why have you never exchanged it for money?”

“I thought about it, a lot, in fact,” he clarified. “Maintaining a car is a very expensive hobby, after all. Apart from the fact that races became my source of income as it makes money fast and much, I think a part of me can’t also fully let go of my father.” He chuckled, but rather bitter and full of regret. “Isn’t it ironic? I think of it like my father repaying the debts he caused. It's satisfying.”

A wicked thought, but you liked the way he thought about it.

“Hey,” you then said, grinning, “do you want to get back at him once more?”

____

“Close your mouth and suck.”

This time, Jaehyun didn’t mean the lollipop he had put into your mouth, but something entirely else.

Luckily, the front seats of his car were able to be raised back all the way, so he was now lying almost flat on his back, his hands gently but determinedly having guided your head to his loin while you were sitting between his angled legs. You did as you had been told and sucked him off like a lollipop.

Your arms were propped up against the edges of the seat with your head bobbing up and down in a regular rhythm, but your tongue did the most work whenever you paused your neck movements just to indulge him with your proficiency.

“Jesus Christ,” Jaehyun cursed and put his forearm over his face so that his facial expressions would be hidden from you. It was like he didn’t want you to know how much control you had over him, but this was for no avail anyway as his swearing gave it all away, “No fucking way…”

It was certainly not your first time sucking him off, so it wasn’t like you didn’t know what he looked like enjoying this kind of pleasure. You found it rather cute how he still thought he could hide this side of him from you.

Your tongue rolled over the tip of his dick, leaving a trace of saliva where it passed. Making sure you covered every angle with your motions, you halted them when you opened your mouth entirely and slowly took in the majority of his length until you felt like you couldn’t do more.

Jaehyun let out a groan that made you smile inwardly, and it only got louder when you let him pass by your lips, but didn’t let him slip out entirely. Instead, you sucked on the tip like the cherry lollipop he often offered you.

You made sure to alternate between sucking and taking him into your mouth almost entirely, and when your left hand wandered to his warm thigh, you felt how tense he had become due to the arousal you made him feel. Instead of letting your hand go back though, Jaehyun stretched out his own to grab your fingers and intertwined them.

His nails dug into your skin and his thighs became very tense, closing around the sides of your face when his release was near. He came in a long spur directly into your mouth, and you swallowed it all down, including cleaning him up - with your tongue of course.

Jaehyun reached out to your face while you were licking over your lips, and you smiled at each other before his own gradually grew more wicked.

“You know what?”

“What?” You wiped with the back of your hand over your lips.

“I also never had sex in this car. Wanna change that?”

He didn’t need to ask twice.

Although it was still very narrow in the vehicle, Jaehyun had swiftly managed to change your positions so that you were now lying underneath him and he was kneeling in front of you in a crouched position. You giggled amusedly when you watched him taking off his shirt as he tried to do so without bumping into anything, but this had been an impossible task from the very beginning. Luckily, you had undressed yourself before already, so that he didn’t need to take care of that part too.

You assumed Jaehyun still needed a bit of time until he could go in fully again, but what would come before that, you had never expected. Your fingers were desperately gripping onto the door handle while your other hand was holding onto the seat belt that slowly dug into your flesh. But this slight pain passed by you almost unnoticeably when another feeling had taken control over your entire body and mind already.

You had already experienced how skillful Jaehyun was with his tongue whenever you kissed, which was long before indicated by the way he played with lollipops in his mouth. Of course he would put this skill into use elsewhere too.

But that he would be this good… You shuddered again when you came the second time in the span of a few minutes after Jaehyun had draped his hot, wet tongue all along your folds, causing your back to lift off from the seat and moaning his name over and over again.

And even then, he didn’t stop. He came to face you after cleaning off his mouth, and kissed you for a long time until you had entirely calmed down before he crawled back to his original position and squeezed his fingers into your bum again to bring it closer to his face.

With the tip of his tongue, he searched for the sensitive bundle of nerves, and you indicated that he had found it when you let out a light squeal. His lips enclosed the bud and you felt all your blood vanishing from your face when he started sucking on it. Oh god, you thought to yourself, you were surely going to pass out.

But he didn’t let you cum this time. Before you released, Jaehyun stopped and flipped you onto your stomach as swiftly as the narrow space allowed him to. Instinctively, you had already brought your bum up to give him better access, and you bit down into the flesh of your arm on which you had your chin rested when you felt him sliding into you from behind in one long motion.

The sound of his groin slapping against your cheeks mixed with your moans filled the car, and luckily, you had been the only ones on this view point at such a later hour. You had only had sex with Jaehyun once in your home, and you had never defined what that was between you. Maybe, you were too dense to speak it out and too naive to actually believe it, but you loved him.

Ironically, you only realized that when you decided to change positions and Jaehyun was constantly bumping his head on the ceiling and you got on top. You were settled on his hips, his length buried deep inside you, but you didn’t move yet.

You let your fingertips wander over his chest, taking your time, and he suddenly grabbed them, led them to his mouth and kissed the tips. When you gazes locked, you were sure.

Yes, you loved him. With all his flaws, his burdens and his past. Perhaps, you had never experienced this kind of love, which was why you had always been reluctant and unsure, but if this wasn’t love, you didn’t know what was. You just hoped that at one point, he would come to feel this way about you too.

“What is it?” he asked with worry when you made no intention of continuing. “Is something wrong? You want to stop?”

But you shook your head. “It’s just… I don’t want this moment to pass.”

Even in the semi-darkness, you encountered Jaehyun’s smile. “I feel the same way.”

Slowly, you raised your hips and slowly came back down to his groin. Jaehyun tried very hard to remain in eye contact with you, but when you did that several times more, he lost his composure again. You propped your hands up against his hard chest and picked up your pace, slamming onto him over and over again in a fast pace.

When you ran out of breath, you alternated the fast motions with sitting on his lap and just letting your hips rotate in different directions and forms, which very much pleased Jaehyun as well by the way he didn’t stop moaning at this part as well.

With time though, your stamina gave in, you slumped over him, eventually let yourself fall onto his chest, because you were too exhausted to go on anymore.

“Want me to finish?” he asked and stroked your shoulder to which you could only give a slight nod.

He kept you locked to his hips with his hands holding onto your sides very tightly and started thrusting upwards. You felt like he had knocked all the air out of your lungs, that was much much power he still possessed. Luckily, for you, you didn’t need to do anything anymore.

He was holding you as you laid on top of him, biting into his shoulder as he thrusted in and out of you with much force, which you really liked. Your thighs tensed around his sides and you whimpered gibberish into his ear, so close to cumming again.

Jaehyun let you release yourself first with a suppressed scream that partly still found a way to escape your lips, and your entire body shook as you felt your high flooding to every fiber of your body. He himself didn’t take much longer and you held him while he experienced his own orgasm, pressing you so close to him as though he was afraid of being parted from you ever again.

When you were getting dressed, he suddenly dropped, “I could get used to it.”

“Doing nasty things in your dad’s old car?” you joked.

But his expression remained serious. “No.”

You didn’t know what he meant.

____

You had written two different versions of Jaehyun’s story.

The first was the one he had read himself and approved of. There were only a few details and personal information sprinkled in here and there about the Falcon while you were trying to fill the emotional gaps with anecdotes and quotes from the other team members under an alias that they were willing to share. You were even successful in interviewing a few spectators and it would include the outcome of the race.

Overall, the less personal and official version gave a good overview over this illegal sport, and you were truly satisfied with this tame version. It was sufficient enough, intriguing enough and informative as well as emotional enough. At other magazines, the story would have made the headlines, you were sure of that. But for the magazine you worked for, enough was only good enough. You had to be better than enough, you had to exceed.

With this version of the Falcon’s story, you certainly weren’t. It wasn’t headline-material like your editor-in-chief expected after all the work you had put into it.

So you had written another version of this story.

One in which you talked about the Falcon’s past, his family, what had really happened back then before his career arose again and the relationships between you all. Yes, even between the two of you. And you had even come forward with the truth about the politician after hard research. This version of the story was personal and vulnerable, and it was the truth.

Jaehyun had gotten to read it as the first and only one.

“It wasn’t.. entirely my fault?” he had asked in disbelief when you gave him the story to read.

You had wanted to wait until you had gotten your facts straight, had enough proof, and then came over to his house to lay it out all in front of him. First, you were unsure whether he would like it, to have had you dig deep into his past.

But if he came to hate you and started to hate himself less instead, then it would have been worth it nonetheless. From one moment to the other though, you clearly saw in his eyes how much of a burden got lifted off his shoulder. Sure, the fact that the politician had been intoxicated didn’t change the fact that Jaehyun was way over the tempo limit, but he hadn’t been the only one at fault.

The politician had been intoxicated with drugs to the point of not being able to walk properly and had remained in the middle of the street, too far gone to think and speak straightly when Jaehyun had passed by.

“No, it wasn’t entirely your fault,” you assured him.

And with that certainty, you both decided to move past this as this case - to both parties luck, fortunately - had long been decided to be buried under the rug anyway.

Jaehyun didn’t come to hate you, you felt it in the way he hugged you close and never seemed to let you go after this revelation. He was, in fact, utterly grateful that you had never let go of this topic.

It was a step closer to him being free. From the very beginning, you knew which version you would publish after the race against the Cheetah. You had begged your boss to postpone the release for another month for you to include this race, and he had happily agreed - even to hold off the senior editor position.

____

“Are you nervous?”

You looked at Taeyong who took the seat next to you. Somehow, you weren’t nervous at all, even though tonight was Jaehyun’s big race against the Cheetah with so much money involved unlike ever before.

Later, you would also finish up the story with the outcome of the race and send it over still this night for the entire country to read. Perhaps, you were more nervous about this than the competition itself since you fully trusted your gained skills and Jaehyun himself. You wouldn’t treat this other than all the races before.

“I’m cool so far,” you said. “I just don’t know if it’s good or bad.”

“I hope it’s good. Jaehyun is probably more nervous than he lets slip.”

“I can hear you.” It was Jaehyun’s voice through your headsets.

“Good!” Taeyong exclaimed. “This wasn’t supposed to be a secret.”

You giggled just in the moment Yuta came over to you and put a usb on your desk. Just a few days before, you both had figured out how the new navigation system worked.

“Just plug it in and do as I told you.”

You nodded and reached for the stick. There were only ten minutes remaining. You had never seen this many people wanting to watch a race before and the tension was sizzling, not only between the teams, but between the spectators too. As far as you had heard, the bets were almost equally split as though no one could decide who would win in their eyes. The Cheetah’s team was in another building, and you wondered whether they were still nervous with the amount of times they had already won so war.

“Hey,” you suddenly heard Jaehyun through the headphones.

“Yes?”

Apparently, he had muted himself for Taeyong since he didn’t respond, but typed something into the computer and then turned around to talk to Johnny and Yuta.

“If something happens,” Jaehyun spoke, “no matter what, will you be with me until the end?”

“Of course.”

“No, I mean it.”

You frowned. “Mean what?”

He sighed deeply as if he was struggling inwardly trying to find the right words. “Will you be with me… until the end?”

“Of course!” you replied happily.

“No! I mean... shit.”

What did he want? “I don’t get it.”

“I love you.”

You were stunned.

It was the first time he had said this to you. The first time someone had said this to you. For how long had he been feeling this way already? Was there a chance he’d been in love with you for as long as you loved him too? You were long lost for words and before you could even inhale to say something back, Taeyong was by your side again.

“You guys ready?”

“Yes,” Jaehyun answered quickly as though nothing had ever happened.

“Then get ready.”

____

The moment the race started, you got to witness with your own eyes why the Cheetah was called the Cheetah. Jaehyun was already a remarkable racer, but his rival was immaculate.

You wouldn’t be Jaehyun’s navigator though if you hadn’t grown together throughout the past weeks. You were his additional eyes, ears and mind. Whatever he lacked or hadn't perfected, you carried out together, making him even stronger so that as of right now, he could easily take it on the Cheetah. You were going to win, that was how much trust you had in you both.

Midway through the race though, which was a real head-to-head contest that had eventually shaken off a part of your tranquility and replaced it with a bit of nervousness because of a few instances from which you quickly recovered nonetheless, Jaehyun started to panic.

“Shit, we didn’t see this coming!”

He complained about a construction site that had not been on your screen, but only popped up now. As of this instance, he was in advance, being in front of the Cheetah. Now, it was on you for how long he could hold that position.

“Don’t worry,” you tried to calm Jaehyun down while your heart raced almost as fast as the car itself right now. “I got you.”

“Why didn’t the new navigation system that Yuta gave you see it coming?” It sounded almost like an accusation and Taeyong shot a meaningful look at you from the side. “There are construction vehicles all around it!”

“Hey.” You didn’t raise your voice, you just wanted Jaehyun to snap out of his mental deadlock since he was too into it. “Stay calm.”

Sometimes, this happened. And if he was too panicked, he’d lose focus and make mistakes. That was why you were here. By now, you knew how to handle them and not let him irritate you or vice versa.

“I’m sorry.” Jaehyun had instant regrets. “I just want to win, I need to win.”

“I know. But to win, you have to trust me.”

You could only imagine his fingers gripping onto the steering wheel like his life depended on it, the knuckles first turning red, then white.

“I can’t lose,” he breathed and repeated like a mantra, “I can’t lose.”

On the screen, you perceived that he wasn’t as fast and sharp with his driving anymore, the Cheetah drawing closer to erase the remaining meters between the two cars. The vehicles appeared on the screen as dots on a map, the two that represented the racing cars now almost melting into one. Your entire team had gathered around you and were listening to you speak, only you and Taeyong knowing the details of your driver’s panic so far.

“You won’t lose, because I’m here with you, Jaehyun,” you assured him slowly, aware that in such kind of situations, you had to pretend to be calm to keep the driver at peace, even though you were tense as hell too. “It’s me, okay? I love you too, and I will be with you until the end. I know the meaning of this now, and of course I will.”

Silence - not only on the other side of the headset, but also in the hall among your team.

“Please say something,” you addressed to Jaehyun while ignoring all the other members’ grins. “This is kind of really embarrassing now.”

“I-I… I can’t,” he stuttered. “I’m… too happy.”

You smiled. Even though you were only connected via voice and there were other people standing behind you, you felt more connected to Jaehyun like never before.

“Are you ready to win this game with me now?” you asked him.

You felt his confident grin in every fiber of your body, it had given him the boost he needed. "Absolutely."

“Hey, we’re here too!” Johnny interrupted you. “What about us?”

“Get lost.” Jaehyun returned back to his grumble, but everyone knew that he didn’t mean it this way.

When you all broke out into a laughter together that lifted off the tension, even just a little bit, you finally felt like you had long reached the finish line. Not in terms of the race, but in terms of other things.

Trust, friendship and even love.

Because even if you had been among them only for a few weeks, you couldn’t imagine a better feeling than the warmth they caused you to experience right now with Johnny putting his hand on your shoulder in a comforting gesture, Taeyong smiling at you as he pointed at something on the screen, and Yuta rolling his eyes, seemingly not minding, but silently enjoying the entire situation.

This was it. This was your family. There was no deeper connection than you had with your team. You were going to win.

____

And you did.

Jaehyun crossed the finish line first.

Jaehyun won against the Cheetah.

Jaehyun was crowned King of the Streets.

…

But he didn’t last on the throne for long.

Only eight hours.

____

“King of the Streets”

… was the headline of your story that you finished late at night and sent over to your editor-in-chief so that it could still be printed for next month’s issue with the intention to be published the morning after.

____

“Congratulations.”

“Pardon?”

You were sitting in your boss’ office, the same chair, the same desk, the same window and the same view in sight. A few weeks ago, this had meant everything to you. You had wanted this, so badly, and you would have done everything for it. Now, it meant nothing anymore.

You hadn’t seen the new issue yet, that was not why you had come here. In your hands, you were holding a notice, but it had got nothing to do with what you had handed in the night before.

“‘King of the Streets’? I couldn’t have thought of a better title.” Your boss the issue in front of your eyes, but you rarely paid attention to it. “It’s great that you went with the way of leaving out the guy’s real name and even the politician’s name. Honestly, if I didn’t know who it was myself, I wouldn’t be able to guess. Now, people will get invested and do some digging. Congratulations on your promotion to senior editor!”

“Pardon?” you repeated.

You hadn’t written about the politician as agreed on. In fact, you had left out the entire storyline about the incident. That was why you had been so sure the story wouldn’t make headlines, and in your hands you were actually holding your resignation notice. You didn’t want to become senior editor. You wanted to quit.

With trembling hands, you reached out to the newest issue and looked at the headline. Indeed, this was your title “King of the Streets” with a stock photo that showed cars by night in front of a skyline. Your breath shortened when you searched for the right page and you felt like the air was being cut in your lungs when you stumbled over the story and started reading.

This was not your article. At least not the one that had been supposed to get published. It was the one only Jaehyun had gotten to read earlier, his very own, personal version. You felt sick in your stomach. How was this possible? Had you been hacked? Had someone secretly gotten access to your laptop?

“I… I sent you this?” Your voice shook with each syllable.

The editor-in-chief nodded. “Only a few minutes before the boring, second one. Of course I went with the first one. Who wouldn’t?”

“I didn’t send you this!” you nearly screamed. “How could you have published this?!”’

“Please calm down, Miss. This was sent from your very own email.”

“Show me,” you demanded and smacked the issue back on the desk. “Show me the mail!”

He sighed deeply and murmured something about short term memory, but you didn’t care much about his shenanigans anymore. Either way, today was the last day you’d ever interact. You’d just leave, what could he possibly do about it?

When your ex-boss shifted the desktop into your direction, you directly noticed, “This is not my work mail.”

It was your usual mailing name from a random provider, but neither your work mail address or your private one. Everything was similar except for the domain, indicating that someone had made this up on purpose.

“Yes, but I figured you might be using another mail, because you weren’t at home or didn’t have access. It was the big competition, so it was possible, right? Aside from that, this is your topic and writing style, even signed with your name. How could I have doubted it? I mean… this is your story after all, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

There was nothing you could say to defend yourself in front of him. You had written this all yourself, and the fact that it had gotten leaked wasn’t his problem. But someone else’s…

“I have to go,” you said.

“Well, when will you come back? We have to talk about your new position’s details.”

You laughed bitterly and didn’t forget to drop the letter on his desk. “I won’t come back.”

You didn’t care about your belongings. You just grabbed your bag, jacket and laptop and left the office without saying goodbye to anyone. The only thing on your mind right now was that you had to talk to Jaehyun and explain everything to him.

The more surprised you were to find him already sitting in the lobby. You were stunned, but as you continued your movements towards him, Jaehyun looked up, and your blood froze. He wore the biggest scowl on his face, and hidden behind it was the one emotion that hurt you the most: disappointment.

“Jaeh-”

“How could you?!” he yelled and arose from the coach, but he didn’t approach you. “I trusted you!”

You were assured it wasn’t because he was afraid he'd lose himself. He just couldn’t look you in the eyes as disappointment came forward more and more, revealing his true feelings. He couldn’t keep the angry facade up for much longer upon meeting you, the person he loved. But you still saw. Jaehyun was utterly hurt, and it was caused by this very same person.

You didn’t need to explain yourself, it wouldn’t change anything. You had betrayed and disappointed him like his father had, and there was no excuse for it. His entire past and deepest conflits had just been revealed to the country, and even though it wasn’t you who had published the story, you were the one who had written it.

Telling Jaehyun that it hadn’t been sent in by you wouldn’t change a single thing. The deed had already been done and there was no going back. You were just another person he had entirely lost faith and trust in, and there was no way for it to be restored. At least not right now, not immediately.

Jaehyun clenched his fists and pressed through gritted teeth, “You promised to me, I trusted you.”

Every syllable he directed at you pierced directly through your heart. You shouldn’t have written anything in the first place, it should have just stayed between the two of you. What had you thought while writing all of this? That you were doing him a favor? For what? No, it wouldn’t change anything, and it wouldn’t make him less sad and disappointed if he knew that you weren’t the person who had published it.

So you simply said, “I’m sorry, I should have never written this story.”

“I’ve always known you journalists were selfish bastards after all,” he hissed.

No heartbreak that you had ever experienced before came close to what you were feeling right now. At this point, you thought that you had been left by so many people in your life that you would need to entirely shut down.

Jaehyun didn’t speak it out, but you certainly sensed that he was going to leave you now, too. This was what you got for always being so nosy, for wanting so much and giving everything for it. In the end, when you reached your aim, everything didn’t matter when you lost every person that meant the world to you along the way.

“Get lost! Keep out of my sight and don’t ever dare talking to me again!”

When Jaehyun turned around without looking at you one more time, it felt like you were dying. So many people had walked out of your life already, and the man you loved the most being one of them hadn’t been in your book before. But now, it was very much real. It felt hurtfully real.

“Miss, are you okay?” the receptionist asked when she was approaching you.

You hadn’t noticed how your notebook had fallen on the floor, paper flying around everywhere. You were still looking after Jaehyun, petrified, while the young woman started to collect the sheets by your feet, but you barely noticed her. How was one to function, when they had lost what they loved the most?

Not much later, the receptionist was holding your arm after you had broken down crying in the middle of all your belongings. There was no one else anymore who could have emotionally supported you anyway, so who did it now was irrelevant to you.It didn’t help one bit though.

____

“Jiyeong?”

“Can I come in?”

It had been two weeks since Jaehyun had walked out of your life and you quit your job. Every minute of the day, you were hoping that he would come by to talk it all out. Not once had you hoped that his sister would do so instead of him.

“Sure.”

When she took off her shoes, walked past your small entrance and into your room, her eyes widened. “Why the many moving boxes? Are you…”

“I’ll be going away.”

“Where to?”

You smiled, but remained quiet, and Jiyeong immediately understood.

You didn’t want her to know and no one else either. Not because you were afraid that she or someone else would tell anyone, but because telling anyone at all would open the possibility of getting haunted by your past again. And this time, you just really wanted a clean cut.

“When are you leaving?” she asked instead, not even mildly offended to your relief.

“Next week.”

“I wish you all the best.”

“Thank you, Jiyeong. I really appreciate that.”

“Please don’t say this so easily.” Her expression changed into a pained one. “You’ll hate me from now on.”

“Why would I possibly hate you?”

She didn’t reply immediately, but nervously stepped from one foot on the other. She barely dared to look into your eyes, kneading her fingers nervously. “Because it was me.”

You were confused. “What?”

Even a bit quieter, she confessed, “It was me who sent the story to your boss.”

You were lost for words and still in hope you had heard wrong. “You sent the published story to my magazine that night?”

Slowly, Jiyeong nodded. “Yes. I found the story still open on my brother’s laptop when I went into his room to look for a charger. I couldn’t look past it, I really needed to read it. And it was so beautiful. My brother is just so deeply misunderstood, I was so relieved someone else saw it. So I wanted the entire country to know too.”

It was a lot for you to take in, and you still couldn’t believe this was real. “Did you create a fake mail account in my name and send it to my boss this way?”

“Yes. The mail from you with the article was still open, so it was easy to secure a similar address. I just acted on my personal intentions and disregarded your and my family’s feelings. I didn’t know what I would cause by doing that. I didn’t know I would not only get our mother worried, but hurt my brother and you too. I deeply apologize.”

“Jiyeong…”

“I thought,” she interrupted you, “I thought everyone would finally see my brother the way my mom, I, his friends and you see him. That he’s more than all that people paint him to be, and that the incident back then was different from everyone’s make up story. Never have I thought that I would not only ruin the lives of the people involved too, the least his or yours. I tried to change it up and make it as anonymous as possible, but I’m only writing in school, I don't have any real life experience, I’m still a child. I didn’t want all that, that was not supposed to happen! What was I thinking?!”

Her voice gradually grew louder and more upset, and when she hit the last sentence, she was close to tears.

You remembered the time when you were a teenager. There had been some grave mistakes you had made and many words you had said that you would want to have taken back immediately, but the deed had already been done and feelings had been hurt, including yours. Sometimes, the guilt gnawed on you like a parasite that never stopped being hungry.

You had never wanted to become a person who made someone else live with that feeling forever. In front of you just stood a teenage girl who had wanted to do the right thing and who just didn’t know what the right thing was. So you stretched out your arms and pulled her into an embrace. Jiyeon begged you over and over again to not hate her or her brother. You loved both of them dearly, how could you?

When she left after sharing a bottle of ice cream with you to soothe your both shaken up feelings, you also learned that Jaehyun had been informed about Jiyeong’s misconduct directly after he had come home the day the story was published - so two weeks ago.

This entire time, he knew. He had known all along and he never contacted you.

You hoped so badly that Jaehyun would still come. You were even still holding onto the slightest sliver of hope the day you moved away from Seoul, until the moment you closed your empty apartment door behind you.

But he never came.

It was just as you thought: It didn’t change anything, whether you or anyone else had sent in the story. The outcome would have always been the same.

So, if Jaehyun had decided to move on, then you would too.

Even though you had lived one of the best times of your life in that city, now it bearded nothing but a sorrowful past and broken dreams.

You wanted to move on, too.

____

2 years later

Moving out of a city didn’t simultaneously mean continuing on.

You had first needed to learn how to start life all over again.

It hadn’t been easy to begin again in Daejeon. It had taken quite a bit of time to find an affordable apartment, although the city was much less populated than the capital. It had even taken you much longer to find a job that fitted you more than the last one, and only recently had you settled with a new friend group.

Overall, life was going pretty well for you now.

Were it not for the fact that you still missed Jaehyun with every fiber of your heart.

After your published story, many newspapers had made follow up articles, even leaking the party chairman’s name. Of course he had then been fired from his position and the party would not make it to be one of those with the highest votes anymore.

Not a word was lost about the Falcon though. It was like he had never existed.

But you knew better.

Jaehyun had stopped street racing entirely and had enrolled back into university for his last year. He had taken the last race’s prize money to pay off the family’s debt - his entire team had left their amount to help him out this time, including you. This had allowed him to sell his car and start working part time in an electric shop.

It hadn’t been by far as much as he had earned as a racer, but they had made ends meet with honest work.

You were wholeheartedly happy for him when Taeyong had told you all this one day when you had met in Daejong a year ago.

“He misses you very much too,” he had said, and you had smiled lightly.

“I thought he hated me.”

“Did you forget what he said during his last race?”

That he loved you.

“I will never forget.”

Jaehyun had won the biggest race in his whole career, but he still wasn’t entirely free. Being crowned King of the Streets, having won a lot of money and becoming popular as well as getting your love - all that hadn’t set him free from his past.

“But now, it doesn’t matter anymore,” you had added, speaking to Taeyong.

He had wanted more time not only for, but also with his mom and sister. Being a good son and brother like his father could have never been.

Jaehyun couldn't put his life on hold to leave his family eventually, too. You had understood, so you had quietly accepted all this, letting him go and focus on the things he saw as important now. Where it had been racing and winning before, his priorities had entirely shifted.

If your love wasn’t part of this anymore but had made him realize this, then what more could you ask for?

By now, another year later, Jaehyun must have graduated from university already and his sister must be a sophomore in high school. Every now and then, you thought about them and prayed for their safety, but your life wasn’t on hold anymore.

“Miss, your interview partner is waiting in the lobby.”

“Okay, thank you.”

You took your notebook from your desk and walked out of your office. The room wasn’t as big as the one in your old company and the view was not as splendid, but you were editor-in-chief for the city's biggest magazine. You could write about things you really cared about like politics and things going on in town, nobody pressured you to cover topics that required you to do criminal things.

The company fitted your personality, your morals. It was perfect for you.

A week ago, you had gotten a request from someone who claimed to have a really good story for you. Even after telling the person via mail that your magazine didn’t take on this kind of sensational story, the person was being persistent, so you gave in and were open to hear what they had to say.

“Good morning, I-”

The last words got stuck in your throat and your breath caught simultaneously. You let your notebook nearly slip from your hands upon encountering your today’s interview partner.

“Good morning.”

He smiled the smile you had lured out of him only after a few weeks of knowing each other. In these two years, he hadn’t changed one bit. He looked more mature and admittedly also more relaxed, the scowl entirely gone. His clothes had changed into more sophisticated ones as he wore black dress pants and a white button up.

“Life’s been treating you well,” he added. “I’m happy for you.”

His deep, soft voice let you nearly melt again, but you were a professional, so you regained your composure real quick.

“I heard you have a really good story for me Mr. Jeong,” you smiled. “I’m really looking forward to it.”

____

Jaehyun wanted you to publish a story.

This time, with him and with his name written all over it.

“I don’t want to hide anymore, I don’t want to have secrets. I want to come clear, not only with myself, my family and friends, but also with everyone involved. I’ve already gathered permission from everyone, and even though it admittedly took me very long to reach this conclusion, I’m a hundred percent sure I want to do it. And most importantly, I want you to do it.”

It would be his personal story, from his own point of view where he would talk about his past, his father’s wrongdoings, his struggles and what he had been up to since his final race. He asked you to sell this story to your old company for a wider audience and for a follow up.

Legally, he weighed himself secure since he had talked to a few layers before making this decision. It was all for his conscience. If this helped Jaehyun finally move on entirely, then you would happily do it for him.

“Back then, during my last race, my navigator had never used the new system. I only found out much later.”

You paused your writing and looked up. You had settled yourselves in a conference room to work on this story without any interruptions. “Why did she never use it, Mr. Jeong?”

“She had so much faith and trust in our connection, she was sure she could do it without, that was how much she believed in me.”

You lowered your head and pretended to write, but out came only gibberish. Your heart was racing. You always fondly thought back to that time. “She must have been a real baddie,” you joked.

“She was.” The corners of Jaehyun’s lips curled upwards. “I don’t regret anything except for one thing.”

“Which is…?”

“Letting her go.”

You were asking yourself why you suddenly couldn’t see anymore as your vision was very blurry. When you wiped the back of your hand over your eyes, you realized that you had started crying, and the tears had stained the writing on your paper.

“I have one more question for you,” you only brought out.

“Yes?”

“Have you married yet, Mr. Jeong?”

The pause that followed almost tore you apart as you closed your eyes and prayed inwardly.

“I’ve been waiting for a special person to return to Seoul,” he nearly whispered. “When she didn’t, I went to search for her.”

You looked up to him, tears still burning on the brim, but somehow, you didn’t feel sad anymore. You felt more overwhelmed with this entire revelation that caused your heart to finally flutter again.

You had never stopped loving Jaehyun.

“And… what if that person doesn’t want to go back to Seoul?”

Jaehyun stretched out his hand and laid his palm against your cheek, wiping away your tears. It felt so familiar and warm, a feeling you had deeply missed. Even though there was still a respectful distance between you that had built up in the past two years, the connection was as deep and intense as ever.

It was at this moment that you realized Jaehyun had never stopped loving you too.

“Then, I’ll go wherever she goes.”

3K notes · View notes

vampiefemme · 11 months ago

Text

𝐬𝐦𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭 | 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

description: you’ve been getting closer to ellie lately and, unbeknownst to you, your blossoming crush is entirely reciprocated. cue your first smoke sesh together… and a little something more, too. [modern au, ellie and reader are both over 18]

warnings: weed use, oral sex, fingering. this fic is 18+, minors do not interact.

author’s note: my first ellie fic and my first fic on this blog! pls be nice :) let me know what you think <3

The first few times you hung out with Ellie, she’d offered you a joint. It’s no secret that Ellie’s the town’s top dealer, a welcome sight at rowdy house parties, her backpack stuffed with ziplock bags of the best bud around. You’d tried weed before, had taken a puff or two from poorly-rolled blunts here and there, but you’d never particularly enjoyed it. Mostly, you’d just coughed up a lung and felt nothing but a vague lightheadedness. So when Ellie rolled up a joint the first time you’d come over to her place, offering you a drag after she’d sparked up, you’d politely declined.

Ellie had arched a brow. “You mind if I smoke? Shit - I can put it out.”

Before you’d had the chance to respond, she was already reaching for the ashtray on her nightstand, ceramic and painted to resemble an eight-ball.

“No, no, it’s fine,” you interjected, reaching out and touching her wrist almost involuntarily. You pushed down the flurry of butterflies that erupted in your stomach at the contact. God, you had to be touch-starved or something. Since when did touching someone’s arm make your heart skip a beat?

Ellie looked at you with a guarded kind of suspicion, like she didn’t believe that you were fine with her smoking. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure,” you said, lips curling into an encouraging smile. “I don’t mind weed, it just doesn’t do anything for me.”

“Huh.” Ellie nodded. She lifted the joint to her lips again and you glanced away, chest tightening from the sight of her lips pursing.

“If you ever wanna try again,” she paused to exhale a plume of smoke, intentionally avoiding your direction, “let me know. Not to, like, toot my own horn or anything, but I’ve never had someone try my weed and not like it.”

You let out an easy laugh. “Okay, we’ll have to see about that.”

Ellie was smiling at you, those green eyes twinkling like so many stars. “No pressure.”

That was months ago, when the summer heat still blazed from sunrise to sunset. It’s mid-winter now, the chill nipping at your cheeks and the end of your nose. To your agony, it hasn’t gotten any easier to breathe when you touch Ellie - when she greets you with a hug and a smile at her front door, you feel like you’re paralyzed with want. And Ellie’s probably none the wiser, of course. You wonder if she’s ever noticed the way your breath hitches when she stretches out on the couch beside you, leaning her head on your shoulder while some tacky eighties film lights up the television screen. You figure she’s oblivious - she’s just being friendly. She probably doesn’t even know you like girls, anyway. Plus, she doesn’t shy away from talking about the girls she’s been with before. You’ve spent more than a few nights seething with jealousy as she recounted her latest hookup, schooling your expression into one of disinterest or even mild enthusiasm.

It’s been a while since she’s talked like that, luckily. You’re grateful you don’t have to feign excitement about Ellie’s latest conquests anymore.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Ellie interrupts your internal monologue, hands still working at the joint in her lap. She’s got a pile of ground-up weed on a rolling tray, sprinkling it into the perfectly-rolled cone like it’s muscle memory. It probably is.

“Nothing,” you blurt, cheeks warming. “Sorry, just zoned out for a second.”

“Oh, bullshit,” Ellie quips, rolling her eyes despite the smile playing at her lips. “What, you can’t tell me? I thought we were friends, cherry.”

You flush anew at the nickname. She’d picked it out for you after you’d scarfed down an entire jar of maraschino cherries one night, after Ellie had bought them for ice cream sundaes. You’d never live that down… But you’re not sure you want to, because every time the nickname leaves Ellie’s lips, you feel like you’re glowing bright red with admiration.

“We are friends!” You nudge Ellie’s shoulder with yours, rolling your eyes with that same playfulness she’d expressed. “Sorry, it’s just - it’s embarrassing.”

Ellie narrows her eyes. It’s like you can see the cogs turning in her head. “Embarrassing? What, you got a crush on some guy or something?”

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can, she’s prattling on again. “Y’know, just ‘cause I’m gay doesn’t mean you can’t talk to me about your crushes. Swear I won’t be weird about it.”

Oh god.

“It’s not - I’m not…” You sigh, gaze lowering to your lap, where you’re fiddling with your hands. Should you tell her? You should probably tell her.

“I like girls, you know.”

It’s quiet for so long that you need to look up at Ellie to make sure she’s still there, still listening. And she is; her eyes are glued to you, wide in disbelief.

“What?” You feel like a bug under a microscope with her looking at you like that. “Is it that hard to believe?”

Ellie shakes her head emphatically. “No, no - it’s not. I just didn’t expect that.”

She turns away to finish rolling the joint, twisting the very end of the paper until it forms a little point. “Guess you’re just full of surprises, huh, cherry?”

You bite your lip to stifle a smile, but Ellie sees it anyway.

“So who’s the lucky girl?” She asks, rummaging through her pocket until she finds her lighter. You watch Ellie spark the joint, the twisted end catching fire until the cherry starts to glow. Ellie takes a few puffs and the scent of smoke tickles your nose.

“I’d prefer not to say,” you tell her, chewing on the inside of your lip. Your nerves are off the wall; you’re so anxious that the joint in Ellie’s slender fingers is suddenly tempting.

Ellie scoffs. “Boring.”

She looks up at you as she flicks ash off the end of the joint, and when she notices you eyeing it, her brows lift.

“Want some? Will that make you spill?”

You huff a nervous laugh, toying with the ends of your hair. “No… I don’t know. Maybe?”

Ellie whoops, her free hand curling into a fist of victory. “Fuck yeah. Here, take it.”

She offers you the joint and you take it, but not without a moment or two of hesitation. You will the anxiety away with the thought that you probably won’t feel anything. Ellie watches as you bring the joint to your lips and inhale, praying you won’t cough and make a fool of yourself. Especially not with Ellie watching so intently.

By the grace of some kind of divine being, you don’t cough. Your throat tickles, and you feel emboldened to take one more hit, letting the smoke fill your lungs. You imagine your body relaxing, the knot in your stomach unwinding. You hand the joint back to Ellie and she takes a puff of her own, her lips curled into the faintest little smirk.

“So…” Ellie trails off expectantly.

“God, you’re persistent,” you groan. She just peers at you knowingly from behind a veil of smoke.

“There’s not much to tell,” you say. “I’ve had a crush on this girl for a while now, but I don’t think she feels the same.”

“Have you asked her?” Ellie prompts, flicking ash off the joint.

You shake your head. “No way.”

“Then,” Ellie pauses to take another hit, “how do you know she doesn’t feel the same?”

You should be feeling anxious with her drilling you like this - you know you should. Usually, you’d be retreating into yourself with every prodding question Ellie asks. But all you feel now is yearning; there’s an ache in your chest that only she can remedy. And, clearly, Ellie’s clueless about it.

You don’t want her to be clueless, you realize.

The words leave your lips before you can think better of them. “Do you, Ellie?”

Her brows knit together, forming a crease that you’ve memorized by now - like every other freckle and wrinkle on her face. “Huh? Do I what?”

You reach for the joint and she yields it without question.

“Do you feel the same about me?”

The weed has certainly helped with your nerves, you think, watching Ellie’s expression shift from confusion to realization. Her plush lips part, but all that comes out is a series of stammers and false sentence starts: “I—you—what?”

Fuck it, you think. You stretch out to reach the nightstand beside Ellie’s bed, leaving the joint in one of the ashtray’s notches. A steady stream of smoke ribbons upward from the fading cherry.

“Ellie,” you start, settling back into your place on the rug. You look at her to find her already staring at you, blinking. “It’s you. I have a crush on you. It’s been—”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ellie interjects, voice softer than you’d expected.

You blink. “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, I guess. And you always talked about other girls, so I thought you just… Weren’t interested.”

“Cherry.” Ellie sits up on her knees so she can get closer to you, the sleeves of her oversized flannel slipping down to her forearms as she reaches out and grabs your face. Her touch is gentle but firm, insistent. You can feel the callouses on her fingers against your skin, her thumbs brushing up against your cheekbones, and the air is suddenly so thin you can hardly inhale.

“I have… I’ve had feelings for you for so long. So fucking long, cherry.” Ellie’s gaze is intense, eyes boring into you. You feel exposed, raw, alive with something electric.

You stare right back at her, frozen in her grasp.

“But you were always talking about other girls,” you say. Doubt lingers in the back of your head; this is too good to be true. Right?

“I know, fuck, I’m sorry,” Ellie sighs. “I thought you weren’t interested in me. Thought it was hopeless, y’know? My perfect best friend having feelings for me? Unreal.”

One of Ellie’s hands smooths over your hair; it’s something she’s done plenty of times before, but it feels different now. More intimate, with your shared confessions between you.

“Wanna know something?” Ellie asks then plows on, not really waiting for an answer, “I stopped hooking up with other girls a while ago. I just… Couldn’t.”

You nod in understanding. Your eyelids feel heavy all of the sudden, each blink heavier than the last.

“They weren’t you,” Ellie adds.

They weren’t you, her words echo in your mind.

“Ellie,” you breathe. Her face is impossibly close; you can pick out every detail of her face. Each pore, each freckle, each fleck of brown in her green eyes. You can smell the weed smoke on her breath.

“Cherry,” she responds, voice hushed just as low as yours. “Cherry. Can I kiss you?”

“God, yes,” you practically whine.

When Ellie kisses you for the first time, she tastes like relief.

Her lips are soft and insistent against yours, the pad of her thumb warm against your cheek as you lean in closer to kiss her back. It’s like time has gone still; the hum of the speaker on Ellie’s dresser fades away, as does the sound of the winter winds hissing and whooshing against the window. All you know is Ellie: her hand slipping down the length of your back to grab your hip, her mouth hot and needy against yours. It’s a desperate sort of kiss, one that you’d both been yearning for, and months of pining drain from your mouth to hers, then back again.

You’re not sure if you’d been kissing for seconds or hours when Ellie finally breaks away, gasping.

“Fuck,” she whispers. The tip of her nose brushes against your cheek, then your nose. “We should stop, before I…”

She trails off but you know exactly what she’d left unsaid. And your stomach flips in response; the mere thought of what else Ellie might do with her mouth has your cunt throbbing.

Ellie’s hand leaves your hip and it’s like she’s left a burn there - one shaped like her touch, a scathing outline on your skin.

“I don’t want to stop,” you find the courage to admit.

You’re not sure who makes the first move this time - only that you’re kissing again, swallowing Ellie’s pleased moans as your tongue prods between her lips. You gasp and pant into each other’s mouths, hands roaming on newly discovered skin; Ellie’s hands slip beneath your tee, her palms hot against your abdomen, your hips, your lower back. When her fingers find the clasp of your bra and unfasten it, you practically shiver with anticipation, back arching into her touch.

“Whoa there,” Ellie laughs, nudging her nose against yours. You go in for another kiss, annoyed that she’d stopped, but she pulls back. “You’re sure you want this, cherry?”

“Please,” you say, taking advantage of the moment to pull your shirt over your head and set it aside. You toss your bra into the growing pile, turning back to Ellie to find her gaping at you.

“Christ,” she says, licking her lips, “you’re fucking perfect.”

She gives you one last heated kiss before her mouth moves to your jawline, then the column of your neck, where she leaves a trail of wet kisses. She sucks on a spot right on the crook of your neck, just shy of leaving a hickey, and your toes fucking curl.

Ellie only gives a low hum of approval at your reaction before she’s moving lower, lower. Her kisses cover your breasts, every inch of skin worshipped by her lips until she finally takes a peaked nipple into her mouth. You feel her tongue swirl against the sensitive bud and you nearly cry from the pleasure, one hand flying up to knot into her hair and tug.

Her gaze moves up to meet yours, and your cunt tightens again at the look of unbridled desire in her eyes - her lids are heavy, too, but you can’t tell if it’s from the weed or sheer lust. Maybe both, you’re not sure, but you don’t have much time to consider it before Ellie’s moving to your other nipple, tongue laving against the taut flesh before she closes her mouth around it and sucks. A ragged moan tears from your throat and you tense, tugging again at the locks of Ellie’s hair in your fist.

She leaves your nipples flushed and sensitive, shining with saliva, and you’re suddenly very aware of the layers of clothes separating you from her. Separating the wetness of your cunt from hers, the bony curve of her hips from your needy mouth. You need those layers gone.

“Ellie,” you whine, pulling at the collar of her flannel.

“Shh, I know,” she coos, voice dripping with syrupy sweet lust. “Why don’t you get on the bed for me, hm?”

You nod and oblige, but not without stopping to slip out of your jeans. You leave your panties on because, well, they’re cute. A white lace thong with a tiny, silky pink bow just below your navel - Ellie’s eyes linger there as she stands at the edge of the bed, unbuckling her belt and stepping out of her cargos. You can feel the wet patch on your panties as you press your thighs together and watch her undress. She’s always been on the thinner side, but as she slides off her flannel and pulls her sports bra over her head, you realize that she’s much more toned than you’d imagined. Her arms flex with each movement and her abdomen is clearly taut with muscle; every inch of new skin she reveals only adds to the agonizing desire churning in your stomach.

Luckily, she seems just as eager as you are. She’s still in a pair of oversized plaid boxers when she grabs hold of your hips and yanks you toward the edge of the bed, pulling your knees apart so she can see what’s between them.

“Look at you,” she says, eyes wide at the sight of your soaked panties. “I didn’t realize you were so needy, cherry. Should’ve let me take care of you sooner.”

Her words send another gush of arousal flooding from your cunt, your stomach twisting. “‘M sorry, Ellie.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she says, lowering herself onto her knees before you. Her fingers hook beneath the lace of your panties to pull them down, leaving them in a crumpled heap on the rug.

Her face sinks between your legs, and the first stroke of her tongue against your folds makes you shiver with relief.

“Oh my god,” you gasp. Ellie moans against your pussy, tongue splitting through your folds, spreading your wetness with every swipe and lick. Your back arches involuntarily, your toes curling in sheer pleasure.

She laps at your cunt like a woman starving, hot tongue drawing circles around your puffy clit. It’s maddening, the way she knows exactly what you need, speeding up and slowing down in accordance with your moans and sighs and whimpers. You’ve never felt so close so quickly, but you don’t want it to stop - her mouth is magic between your legs, and as you hurtle towards your orgasm, she slips a finger into your clenching hole. You nearly scream.

“Ellie,” you moan shakily, your thighs tightening on both sides of her head. “Ellie, I’m gonna…”

She just moans again, mouth working at your clit while her finger sinks in and out of your cunt. She adds another not long after and it’s hardly a stretch with how wet you are. You’re trembling with every stroke of her tongue against your clit, and soon enough, you feel yourself slipping off the edge into oblivion. Your orgasm tears through you like never before, hot and electric, every muscle tensing as Ellie finger-fucks you through every wave of pleasure. Eventually, you push the heel of your hand against her forehead, too overstimulated for her to keep sucking at your too-sensitive clit. She pulls back and sits on her heels, fingers leaving the tight grip of your cunt as she wipes her mouth with her other hand. Your slick covers her from the nose down, the shining evidence of how good she’d made you feel.

“So fucking pretty when you come,” Ellie tells you, standing up and lifting a knee onto the bed beside you. Her hair is a mess, you’d made sure of it, but she doesn’t seem to notice or care.

“Think you’ve got a few more for me?” She smiles at you, wolfish and wicked, and her hand moves to grope at one of your tits.

“Mm,” you hum, reaching out for her. “Only if you have a few for me.”

When she’s close enough, you slip your hand between Ellie’s legs, your fingers brushing through sparse curls to find the heat of her folds. She’s soaked, you realize with self-satisfaction, your tongue swiping over your lower lip.

This will be fun.

#ellie williams x reader #wooo first fic!#ellie x reader #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie williams smut #ellie williams fluff #tlou fic #tlou fanfic #tlou fanfiction #tlou2 #ellie tlou #ellie tlou2 #lesbian fic #!#ellie fanfic #ellie x fem reader

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sinkovia · 10 months ago

Text

He's cheating, isn't he?

Price x Fem!Reader

Angst

As the weeks turned into months, you couldn't ignore the growing unease that had settled in your heart. It had started innocently enough, with Price getting up to take a phone call in the living room. At first, it didn't raise any suspicion, but it soon became a regular occurrence, happening every week, sometimes even multiple times within the week.

You knew deep down that Price would never cheat on you. His love for you was undeniable, and you were well aware of it. However, the constant disappearances for hours on end began to wear on your trust and your self-esteem.

Price would always tell you that he was just going to get groceries, but when he returned, there would only be one bag in his hand. It didn't make sense for him to be gone for hours just to bring back one bag of groceries.

The months went by, and the secret phone calls continued. With each instance, your patience wore thinner, and the restraint you had built was beginning to crumble. You couldn't help but feel that something wasn't right.

When you asked him about the calls, he only mumbled that it was work. But you couldn't help but wonder why he couldn't simply take those calls near you if they were indeed just work-related matters.

The increasing secrecy and lack of transparency were eroding your trust and leaving you with a growing sense of unease. It was clear that something was amiss, and you couldn't help but wonder who Price was hiding from you.

One day, as you lay with your head nestled in Price's lap, his fingers gently brushing through your hair, the soothing rhythm of his touch had started to lull you into a peaceful state. But that tranquility was abruptly interrupted when his phone rang, startling him.

Price quickly moved you off his lap to take the call. You felt a surge of anger bubbling up inside as he did, a sense of rejection and abandonment washing over you. You got up from the couch, the slow, deliberate steps taking you to your bedroom, where you leaned your ear against the door, desperate to eavesdrop.

Through the muffled sound, you heard Price's voice as he spoke on the phone. The words were unclear, but you strained to listen. There was a long pause, and then Price let out a sigh, a heavy and weighted sound that filled you with dread.

"...Four months..." Those two words hung in the air like a storm cloud, and your heart sank as you tried to make sense of what they meant.

It felt like the ground beneath you was slipping away, and you couldn't help but wonder if Price was planning on leaving you in four months, ending your relationship and moving on to someone else. Tears welled up in your eyes as you walked back to the couch, your mind racing.

The thought left you emotionally paralyzed, tears threatening to brim in your eyes as you walked away from the door, quietly retaking your spot on the couch. Your gaze fixed on the television, your mind racing. Price soon entered the living room and took a seat next to you, his concern evident in his voice.

"Love?"

You were lost in your thoughts, not immediately hearing him. It was only when he said your name that you snapped back to reality, forcing a smile and responding, "Sorry, hun, just daydreaming."

Price smiled and placed his hand over yours, "You know I love you, right? More than anything."

Your smile almost faltered, but you managed to keep up the facade, placing your hand over his and gently squeezing. "I know you do."

He kissed your forehead and you leaned your head back into his lap, his hand combing through your hair, while his attention shifted to the TV. But for you, everything else seemed to fade away.

You battled back tears and internal questions. Who was this other woman? When had Price started seeing her? What excuse would he make to end your marriage?

Over the next three months, you worked hard to keep up the facade. Occasionally, it would slip, and you'd find yourself crying in Price's arms, but you always made excuses, blaming it on cramps or a bad day. However, your heart was heavy with the uncertainty and fear of what might be coming.

However, one day during dinner, as you looked up from your plate, you saw blood trickling from Price's nose. Your eyes widened in alarm.

"Oh my god, hun, your nose is bleeding," Concern evident in your voice. Price raised his hand to his nose and saw the blood on his fingertips.

"I'm fine, sweetheart. Let me just clean it up," he assured you. As he got up from the chair, he suddenly collapsed to the ground. Panic set in as you rushed to his side.

"Give me a second; I'm going to get my phone and call 911," you said, running to the other room, your fingers trembling as you dialed for help.

You sat in the hospital room, holding Price's hand while he slept in the hospital bed. The tension was palpable, but you had no idea of the heavy news that was about to be revealed. The doctor entered the room, and you turned your attention to him, your heart already drumming in your chest.

"The tumor has grown significantly over the past three months," the doctor said, his voice laden with sorrow. "I'm very sorry to say, but he only has a few weeks, a month at best."

Your world froze as the words left the doctor's mouth. "What do you mean, tumor? What tumor are you talking about?" you asked in shock, your voice trembling.

The doctor's eyes widened as he realized that Price had never shared this information with you. "I'm very sorry to be the one to tell you this, but your husband has had a brain tumor for the past year. He has been coming here quite frequently for CT scans. I thought he shared the news with you.”

Your heart dropped, and your ears were ringing as the doctor's words sank in. "Thank you, doctor. I think I want some alone time if that's okay with you," you said, turning away to be by Price's side, your hand finding his again.

"Of course," The doctor nodded and left the room, leaving you in silence.

This revelation shattered your world. All those months of misunderstanding, suspicion, and fear, thinking that he was cheating on you, were suddenly replaced with the realization that he had been dealing with a life-threatening condition. And he had hidden it from you, for what reason, you couldn't fathom.

Alone with Price, your hand found his once more. Slowly, his eyes fluttered open, and as they met yours, he saw the tears streaming down your face. Confusion and worry knitted his brows, and tears welled up in his own eyes.

"You know, don't you?" he whispered.

"Why didn't you tell me?" you sobbed, gripping his hand tightly. Price's own tears fell freely now. Using his other hand, he covered yours, squeezing it with all the strength he had left.

"I didn't want it to ruin you. I didn't want you to let it destroy you, for you to count down the days you had left with me. I wanted us to live a normal life together. I wanted your last year with me to be full of happiness. I just wanted you to be happy. I'm so sorry,"

Price confessed, his voice cracking. You dropped your head as you cried out, the weight of his secret too much to bear. Price did his best to sit up, his hands cupping your face, making you look at him.

"I thought you were cheating on me," you cried out as tears ran down your face. Price looked shocked but quickly laughed softly through his own tears.

"Sweetheart, I would never," he assured you. You reached over and hugged him tightly, burying your face in his neck as you sobbed out your anguish.

"I don't want you to die," you choked out as Price's tears streamed down his face, and he held you even tighter.

"I don't want to die either," he whispered back. He cried with you, and you both shared your pain, finding comfort in one another. Eventually, you fell asleep next to him on the hospital bed.

Two weeks later, you found yourself standing in front of Price's casket, a sea of mourners around you. Your eyes were vacant and hollow, lost in a world of pain and sorrow as you gazed at his lifeless form, lying in the casket. The weight of his absence was suffocating, and the pain of losing him was overwhelming, etching deep lines of grief and despair on your face.

The world moved around you, but you felt frozen in time, unable to comprehend that Price was gone. As the solemn ceremony continued, the reality of your loss settled heavily on your shoulders, and the tears flowed freely, reflecting the profound sense of emptiness that had taken root in your heart.

You had been going through the motions of daily life, the absence of Price weighing heavily on your heart. As you checked the mail one afternoon, you noticed a letter that seemed different from the usual bills and advertisements. Your eyes grew wide with curiosity as you recognized the handwriting on the envelope, and your heart raced with anticipation.

Rushing to the living room, you tore open the envelope with trembling hands. Your eyes scanned the familiar words, and tears welled up as you realized it was a letter from Price. Your heart ached as you devoured every word, feeling his presence through his written words, and a bittersweet mix of emotions washed over you.

My Dearest y/n,

As I sit here, pen in hand, I am filled with a mixture of emotions that I'm struggling to put into words. I write this letter in the hope that it reaches you a few days after I'm gone, a small attempt to convey what's in my heart before my time in this world ends.

I want you to know how much I love you. I want you to carry that love with you always. You are the sun, the warmth that has filled my heart, and the love that has given my life meaning.

I want you to understand that my decision to keep my illness from you was not out of deceit or a desire to protect you from pain. It was a misguided attempt to preserve your happiness.

I see now that my silence did more harm than good, and for that, I am truly sorry. The weight of my secret was a heavy burden, and I regret not sharing it with you sooner.

As you face the days without me, I want you to know that it's okay to grieve, to feel anger, sadness, and loss. Emotions are a natural part of life, and there is no right or wrong way to experience them.

I want you to cherish the memories we created together. The laughter, the shared dreams, the quiet moments, they are all a testament to the beautiful life we built. Please, hold on to those memories, for they will keep me alive in your heart.

Live your life, my love. Pursue your dreams, follow your passions, and find joy in the simple pleasures of life. I have always believed in your strength, your resilience, and your ability to make the most of every moment. You have a bright future ahead, and I hope you embrace it with all the enthusiasm and optimism that you have always possessed.

I may be leaving this world, but my love for you will never fade. I will always be with you in spirit, watching over you, guiding you, and protecting you. You are a remarkable person, and you deserve all the love and happiness that life can offer.

I'm grateful for the love you gave me, and I am blessed to have known you. Cherish the life we had together, and as you move forward, carry our love with you in your heart. Until we meet again in a better place, my love, I will be waiting for you, just as you will always be in my heart.

With all the love in my soul,

John Price.

You can almost hear his voice echoing through the written lines. Your heart tightens, and tears roll down your cheeks as you finish reading.

Uncontrollable sobs wrack your body, and the ache in your chest intensifies with each passing moment. You find yourself gasping for breath between heart-wrenching cries. The raw pain of loss washes over you, and each word in the letter feels like a bittersweet echo of the love you shared.

In the days that followed, the words lingered, an ethereal presence in your heart. The letter remained a harbinger of sorrow, a tangible testament to the void Price left behind. Tears now blurred the lines, rendering his words almost unreadable. Yet, within those blurred lines, you found a flicker of resilience.

The pain of loss remained, an unwelcome companion, but within the lines of his letter, there was an urge to honor his memory through living life the way he would have wanted you too.

Slowly, like the tentative bloom of flowers after a harsh winter, you began to unfurl. You traced a path towards healing, stumbling through the fog of sorrow. The world around you seemed dull at first, colors muted and sounds distant. Yet, with each passing day, a glimmer of resilience emerged, a hesitant spark pushing through the darkness.

You found yourself in small moments – a sunrise painting the sky with hues of warmth, a stray cat lying on your porch, the scent of rain on the pavement. In these fragments of life, you began to glimpse a flicker of the light that once danced in your husband's eyes.

Carrying his memory, you navigated the world anew, a hesitant traveler on a journey of healing. His words echoed in your mind, encouraging you to embrace the vibrant symphony of existence. You found fragments of him in unexpected places – a familiar song on the radio, a butterfly dancing in the garden, or the scent of his favorite cologne lingering in the air.

In these moments, you felt a connection beyond the tangible, a comforting presence whispering that he was still with you. It wasn't a cure for the ache of loss, but rather a soothing balm, a reminder that love could transcend the boundaries of life and death.

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apocalypseornaw · 3 months ago

Text

Close Call

Dean Winchester x Reader

Set in season 1 episode 12 "Faith"

When Dean's gravely injured on a hunt Sam calls you for help. With what seems like a ticking clock Dean makes some confessions but what happens when that clocks slows down?

Fluffy smut

You're not sure what you were expecting when Sam called you. Hell the younger Winchester hadn't exactly been thorough in his explanation, mixed in with the fact that you'd been freshly out of the shower when he called meant you'd barely gotten the bare minimum of it. That alone had been enough to make it feel like your heart would crumble. Dean, hurt, hospital.

"But people survive heart attacks all the time Sam" you were trying to wrap your head around what he was telling you but Dean only having a few weeks, a month at most? That wasn't feasible.

He nodded slowly "it was a massive heart attack. They said there was too much damage" you could see the tears brimming in his eyes and felt your stomach knot. "C'mere" you pulled him down into a hug and he practically buried his face in your neck "I can't lose him and you were the only person I knew who would come to us, who's always answered the phone for us both"

"It's gonna be ok. We'll figure something out. We'll hit the hunters network, make some calls. There's something out there that can help him and we will find it" you didn't know if you were trying to convince Sam or yourself. You stood there for a few seconds simply offering what comfort you could to him.

There were times you forgot you had two years on Sam in age, both of you were lifelong hunters having gotten dragged in at a young age. That's how you knew both boys. Sam was damn near a brother to you and as for Dean, he was the closest thing you had to a best friend.

After a moment Sam pulled back and you could see him take a deep breath and the resolve set in his eyes "I'm gonna head back to the hotel and get started on that list you texted me. Do you mind staying here with him?" He nodded towards the room the two of you were standing outside of. You hadn't went in yet but knew your heart would twist seeing Dean that weak. You nodded "Of course. Call me if you find anything" he kissed your forehead then turned to walk away.

-------------

You took a deep breath to steady your nerves before walking into the room. You could hear the stations flipping on the television before you made it past the curtain, Dean was laying in the bed. Between the grey hospital gown and how pale his skin was he looked closer to a ghoul than the bright eyed, smart mouthed hunter you knew and loved.

He smiled weakly when he spotted you "Finally they got the memo about the fact that I don't wanna die where the nurses aren't even hot" you rolled your eyes at his flirting but sat down on the foot of his bed, resting your hand on the leg closest to you "How the hell do you have a massive heart attack Winchester? If you missed me that bad you could've called. No need for dramatics"

He grinned "Wanted to make sure you dropped everything to come to me sweetheart" you shook your head, trying to hide the worry you knew would be evident on your face. He looked so damn weak, the damage done to him internally showing externally as well.

"Let me guess, John couldn't bother to answer a damn phone for Sam" you couldn't help the bite to your voice. For too long you'd been quiet about the way John treated both his sons but from about the time you turned twenty on at any given opportunity you told him. Dean shrugged "I don't know. I didn't ask him to call dad. I asked him to call you" "oh" your anger at John didn't really dissolve instantly because you knew the reason Dean had you called was because like Sam said himself you always answered.

-------------

"You need to get some rest" you urged Dean who shrugged "from what they said I'll be getting plenty of rest soon enough" your glare made him grin "I'm sorry sweetheart. I won't joke about it if you come up here and lay down with me. I know you drove all night to be here by now"

Wouldn't be the first time you and Dean had slept in the same area, especially since he started hunting without John. There'd been so many almost between you and him it hurt something deep inside of you to think about it. You loved this man with everything you had and to think about losing him to something as mundane as a heart attack? It didn't seem right.

You shrugged "I don't know Dean. Don't want the nurses to think I'm taking advantage of you in your vulnerable state" he nearly managed his signature smirk at your words before saying "if only I was so lucky then I could die a happy man. Now get your ass up here" he scooted over and patted the bed next to him.

You stood and walked up to the head of the bed, sliding in next to him being careful not to hit any monitor. You knew you were tense because your mind was working overdrive as was your heart but for some reason you thought Dean wouldn't notice, that proved to be wrong because he shifted to pull you further down the bed. "I'm weak,not dead. Not get comfortable and act like you want to be here. You need some rest too"

You knew what he was asking so you turned towards him, tucking your booted feet up onto the bed to lay your head over on his chest. His heartbeat sounded weakly under your ear but it was a familiar comfort. He hooked one arm around you "At least I get to hold you for a little while" you closed your eyes to ensure he wouldn't see any tears in them.

After a minute you'd hoped he'd fallen asleep but he spoke again "Remember that first hunt you ran across me and dad on after Sam left for Stanford?" You nodded "Yeah. I thought that vein on John's neck would burst when I told him it wasn't his fault he didn't know any better and maybe he didn't to read a lore book every now and then"

Dean's laughter shook you slightly "I've always loved that about you. You don't back down from him. You never have" you picked at the hospital gown Dean was wearing before saying "I hate how he treats you and Sam. You're the most important people in my life. I'll fight him tooth and nail"

His fingers found your hair, lightly playing with it "Will you watch out for Sammy? He's gonna need you?" You swallowed hard "I won't need to. Because you're not going anywhere Dean" he kissed the top of your head "Get some sleep sweetheart. I'm gonna try to"

Dean watched you sleep, even as nurses came in to check on him and he sent them out of the room with a glare. They'd told Sam he was dying, a few weeks tops. They could leave him the hell alone to hold his girl. His girl. When the hell had he started categorizing you as his girl?

Was it the fact that you knew the life? That you always backed him and Sam? That you were there when Sam left? You backed down John at every given chance, you always had his back. You were beautiful and sweet and badass. More than one night he'd shared a bed with you just sleeping and it was always the best sleep he'd ever gotten. The hunts you two worked together was a thing of beauty you knew the lore inside and out. If there was ever a chance for him to love someone and it to be a lasting love you were it.

He'd known it long before but laying in a hospital room, being told your time is limited kind of narrows things down for you. He loved you. He was in love with you. How the hell was it fair to tell you that just to leave you?

-------------

Your phone ringing jolted you out of sleep. You could hear a deep voice, Dean? Memories of the last few hours came flooding back and you sat up to see Dean talking on your phone. He held it out to you "It's Sammy" you took it from him and climbed out of the bed, stretching as you did so. "Hey Sam. What's up?"

-----------

Sam sounded excited from the sound of it so you decided to head to the hotel to see what he'd found out. When you told Dean you were leaving for a little while he looked disappointed until you pressed a quick kiss to his cheek "Please behave. I'll be back"

Sam had found a faith healer, from every contact it seemed legit. The problem? Dean would never agree to it? The solution? You would agree to tell Dean it was a specialist and leave it at that.

"So do you drive him in the impala or do I lure him into my car?" You asked Sam with a smirk about the time a knock at the hotel door made both of you turn around. You shared a look before Sam walked over to ease the door open. You started to reach for your gun but stopped when Dean's face came into view.

------------

"What the hell are you doing here?" Sam asked and he shrugged "I'm not gonna die in a hospital where the nurses aren't even hot" then winked at you. You moved to help Dean into the room when he seemed unsteady on his feet.

The hoodie and jeans was better than the hospital gown but god he was still so pale. He smiled when you shifted one of his arms across your shoulders to support some of his weight "Just had to get close to me again, huh sweetheart?" You shook your head but helped him over to the bed to sit down then looked back at Sam "Why don't you go make sure both the cars are gassed up, grab some food for the road then we'll get going"

Dean looked from you to Sam so you explained "Sam found a specialist. Hopefully it'll be fruitful" he nodded "If you think it's worth trying" "we do" you and Sam answered in unison. Sam cut his eyes at you "I'll be back in about thirty, forty minutes then we can hit the road" you nodded and chucked him your keys "Thanks Sam"

--------------

After Sam left you stood there for a few minutes before letting out a breath. Dean was watching you carefully before he patted the bed next to him "Sit down sweetheart. You're wearing me out"

You sat down next to him, careful not to move him around too much. He moved back on the bed until his back was against the headboard, legs stretched out in front of him.

"Do you think this specialist is gonna actually be able to help or are you saying that for Sammy's sake?" You let out a shaking breath "I'm not just saying it for Sam's sake. This specialist has got to help. I can't.. the world can't lose you"

Dean patted the bed next to him "come up here. Might as well get comfortable. We'll be here a little while until Sam gets back" you did as he asked, sitting right next to him on the bed. He lifted one arm and you curled up on his chest so he tucked his arm tightly around you. "Hey, wanna play a game?" You nodded.

"Two truths and a lie" he whispered and you laughed "ok" "I have green eyes, next to Sam you are the most important person in my life and my first solo hunt was at twenty" you felt your face warm "Dean your first solo hunt was at Seventeen" he kissed your forehead "I know"

"Ok, my turn?" You asked and he nodded before shifting to nuzzle into your neck and you had to bite back a groan. You'd always been close to Dean and so many times you two had almost had something happened but what was this? You let out a breath "My car is dark blue, my heart is crumbling in my chest at the thought of losing you and I hate roses"

He whispered against your skin "You love roses" before pressing a feather light kiss to your pulse point. You swallowed hard "Dean" "hmm?" You pushed his chest gently, just enough to put room between the two of you. He looked up at you through those thick eyelashes and your heart flipped "what are you doing?"

He pushed himself up, despite the grimace on his face. For the first time since you showed up you saw his facade slip, tears shining unshed in his eyes "I don't want to die. I don't want to leave Sam. I don't want to leave you. I've known you for years, I've been at your side for years. I've wasted time. I love you Sweetheart. There's never been anyone I feel about like how I feel about you and I know it's selfish of me to say this now but in case this specialist is a bust"

He leaned forward, catching your lips in a gentle kiss that made your heart flip. The two of you had kissed before, teenagers fueled by hormones then hunters fueled by adrenaline after a hunt, nothing had ever gone past a little heavy petting. Something or someone always caused the brakes to get hit but this kiss felt different, like he was trying to say make sure you'd remember him and it broke your heart.

He pushed your shoulders until your back was against the bed and he was on top of you, holding himself up on his forearms. He went from your lips down to your neck, kissing and nipping the sensitive flesh. Every little sound that fell from your lips seemed to spur him on until your senses caught up with you. "Dean...stop" the moment you said it he froze.

You shook your head. A day or two ago you would've given anything to be in this position with Dean but now? You couldn't..."Honey...as much as I want to believe you mean what you told me..as much as I want this...as much as I want you. You're dying, you're afraid. I'm not taking advantage" you swallowed hard before continuing "if this specialist works and we get you to the other side of this tell me how you feel" he pressed his head over on your chest before saying "I've loved you for years"

You ran your hands down his back soothingly, feeling your heart break all over again "Tell me that again when you're not dying" he raised his head to look at you, green eyes holding your gaze "Do you love me?" You blinked back tears "Ask me after we see that specialist. Ask me when you're not dying, please"

He nodded and pressed another quick kiss to your lips before moving back to simply lay next to you "I do love you" he repeated quietly so you nodded, feeling tears sting your eyes. "And I'll give you an answer when you're well"

You and Dean hadn't spoken much when Sam got back except for Dean to tease you by saying "Don't worry sweetheart, Sam's driving so you'll be able to keep up"

From what you could tell he wasn't upset that you hadn't answered his question and you knew better than to think Dean would ever be upset over you turning down any advances. You wanted him, fuck you wanted him but you couldn't have him. Not weak, not scared of dying. You wanted him at full strength with a life ahead of him.

You followed the tail lights of the impala and cranked your music up a little louder. You just needed to get Dean to this healer. It would work...it had to work.

-------------------

You grabbed two hotel rooms in a nearby town because Sam figured it was a much better idea to have you in the car with him and Dean when you arrived to the revival where the healer was working.

You sat in the backseat of the impala as Sam pulled off onto the dirt road that lead to the field where tents were set up all around. "What kind of specialist is this?" Dean asked turning slightly in the seat to look back at you so you shrugged "One that can help you get your answer?"

A look of confusion went across Sam's face "answer to what?" "Never mind that. You two bought me to a faith healer" Dean pushed as the car came to a stop and Sam moved to help him out. Dean pushed away from him but took your hand. "Just give it a try please. For the two of us" you whispered, barely loud enough he could hear you over the crowd.

Dean looked from you to Sam. The woman he loved and his baby brother. He'd do anything for the two of you and if this is what you asked of him, well guess he'd give it a try. "Fine" your smile was reward in itself when you reached for Sam's hand and gave it a squeeze "This is gonna work" you assured the younger man before leading the way into the biggest tent.

Dean was healed, his heart was back in top shape you should be escatic and you were but so much had happened in the last few days with Reverend Roy, his wife Sue Ann practicing ancient blood magic to hold reapers hostage and make it appear as if Roy was working miracles and the guilt Dean was now carrying over Layla the woman you'd all met with the brain tumor you'd been forced to not let be healed well nothing had gone as planned.

------------

Sam had asked you to stick around, Dean hadn't said much to you and you were starting to think he regretted his deathbed confession now that it wasn't that. The last case had been a simple haunting. With the three of you it had barely take a day so on a rarity for hunters the boys had taken your suggestion of a clean hotel off route sixty six for a couple days to recoup and rest until another hunt fell in your laps or until John pulled his head out of his ass to call them.

You hadn't been long wished the boys goodnight and headed to your room. No matter where the three of you ended up they always made sure to get you a room next to theirs. You were standing at the dresser next to the door, going through your duffle when you heard a knock at the door. You eyed the gun sitting next to you before Dean's voice drifted through the door "It's me sweetheart"

Here it was. The admission that everything he said was simply words of a dying man. You took a step towards the door and reached to unlock the locks then stepped back to let him walk in.

You barely glanced his way when he crossed the threshold "Hey Dean" your voice was nearly a whisper. He closed the door behind himself and you heard the locks click into place, it was a habit of all of yours at this point. You continued your digging through the duffle bag as a means to keep your hands busy and distract yourself from the oncoming heartbreak as if he hadn't hurt your heart enough over the last couple weeks.

"What are you looking for?" He asked after a moment, humor lightening his voice. You shrugged "something to sleep in. I need to shower so I was planning on a tshirt, panties and sports bra so if there was an emergency the jeans were a slip on and go thing" he hummed a response behind you before you felt him move and his arms slipped around your waist, his hands covering yours to stop the repetitive movements considering you'd picked up and put down the same shirt four times already.

"How about we talk first?" You nodded, pulling your hands away from his. He dropped his arms so you could turn to face him and an almost shy smile played at his lips "There she is" you nodded "Here I am"

-------------

He reached for your hand, turning so he could sit on the dresser next to your bag. Instead of releasing your hand, he used it to pull you to stand between his legs. You laid one hand on his shoulder, trying to ignore the feeling of his eyes on you "Y/N. What I did wasn't fair to you"

Your eyes flew to his face "What?" He shrugged "I sprung that on you. You drove all night to get to me and Sam and I spill my guts and put you on the spot for an answer? How big of an asshole do I have to be? We can forget it, if you want"

"And if I want to talk about it?" Your fingers moved to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. His eyes closed for a second before he nodded "We'll talk about it" "Do you actually love me?" You asked.

When his eyes opened the intensity in his gaze nearly made your knees go out from under you but luckily he chose that moment to slip both arms around your waist "Yes. I love you. I have for a long time but you don't have to feel like you owe me anything. We can stay friends.." his eyes flicked towards the bed before a smirk snuck onto his face "If you want more I wouldn't dream of telling you no but I'm not holding it against you for not feeling the same way. I've wanted to tell you and just had really shit timing"

-------------

"So you don't want your answer?" You asked before leaning over and letting your lips find his neck, teasing the spots that had his grip tightening on your hips "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious but I'm not pushing"

You kissed your way across his jaw before claiming his lips, trying to push how you felt for him into the kiss. When the need for air forced the two of you away you felt a small thrill at him chasing your lips for another kiss "Sweetheart, if you're teasing the shit out of me because of that time dad interrupted us when we almost.."

You cut him off by crashing your lips against his before muttering "Still want to punch him for that" you pulled him up off the dresser and he groaned into your mouth. You broke the kiss and smiled up at him "I'm not teasing you for every time we almost had sex getting interrupted, I promised you an answer..." you took a deep breath before continuing "I love you too Dean"

"You don't have to say that to have me Y/N" he whispered, his lips barely a breath away from yours. You smiled softly "I know but Dean think about it. You're my best friend. I can't even pinpoint when I fell in love with you because the transition just happened but it did. I love you"

--------------

His eyes searched your face for a moment and you could feel your heart thudding in your chest before you saw the realization finally strike him that you'd meant it. You loved him, you were in love with him and you wanted him. "C'mere" when his lips found yours again your hands went to his jacket, quickly shoving it off his shoulders as he started walking you backwards towards the bed.

When your the back of your knees hit the bed he followed you down onto it, lips never leaving yours until the need for air pushed you apart. You tugged at his shirt and he got the point, quickly pulling it over his head and tossing it across the room before finding your lips again.

Your hands smoothed up his chest, fingers tracing the familiar scars. Many of which you'd stitched up yourself. He moved from your lips down to your neck, kissing and biting the flesh there. When he hit your pulse point you let out a low moan of his name and he chuckled against your skin "Fuck I love that"

-------------

When you felt his hands slip under your shirt you lifted your back off the bed enough he could slip it off you without ripping it. Your bra followed quickly, leaving your top half bare to him. He started to lower his mouth to your breasts but you stopped him with a hand on his chest. He looked up at you with a question in his eyes and you smiled teasingly "This is the furthest we've ever gotten. Are you sure we won't get interrupted?"

The look that went through his eyes made your stomach flip before he said "I will shoot any son of a bitch that tries it sweetheart" you laughed and moved your hand to cup his jaw "Fuck i love you Dean" he grinned "I love you"

------------

He pressed a kiss to your lips before continuing his path down your neck then making his way to your chest. He ducked his head to roll your nipple between his lips and your back arched off the bed into his chest. He continued to tease the nipple as you felt one of his hands teasing at the waistband of your jeans.

He glanced up at you for permission and you gave a short nod. He broke from your chest with a wet pop "No baby. I need words. I've waited too long" you smiled "Yes Dean" he grinned before helping you to shimmy your jeans off your legs.

--------------------

He tossed them across the room and moved down the bed to position himself between your legs. He started at your left ankle then kissed up, taking special care to leave a few hickies on your inner thighs, just shy of where you desperately needed him before going to the right leg to give it the same treatment.

You were a quivering mess under him and he'd barely touched you yet. "Dean, please" "please what?" He asked with a smirk, rocking back on his heels to look up at you. You tried to glare at him but knew it fell weak. He winked at you before licking a tentative strip across your clit.

When you moaned his name he chuckled "Oh this is gonna be fun" then dove in like a man starved of his favorite meal finally being allowed to feast.

-----------

Your legs were shaking and Dean was working to pull yet another orgasm out of you even though he'd yet to even take his damn jeans off. When he added two fingers to brush across that spot deep inside of you, that warmth burst again and you came with a scream of his name.

You weakly shoved at his head "Please Dean, too much. Please" he left a final kiss against your clit before pulling back to look up at you "Enjoying yourself?" "Get your jeans off and get inside me please" you begged and he grinned broadly "now see? That's using your words sweetheart. That's a good girl"

------------

He stood off the bed long enough to push his jeans and boxers off. You'd always known Dean was on the bigger side but you'd never known how big.

He was big. You hadn't realized you'd been staring at his cock until he wrapped one hand around the base of it "Like what you see?" You nodded "C'mere"

--------------

He grinned and crawled up your body, kissing every inch of skin he could reach along the way. When he finally reached your lips he captured your mouth in a passionate kiss, letting you taste yourself on him. You felt the head of his cock nudging at your opening so you spread your legs a little further, hooking them around his hips. He chuckled lightly "I got you baby" before slowly starting to push into you, a moan leaving you both at the feeling.

Once he was fully inside of you he stilled to give you time to adjust to him, kissing across your neck and chest. Once the pain of him stretching you gave way to pleasure you moved your hips to give him the go ahead. He gave a small roll of his hips and when your response was a gasp of his name that was all the assurance he needed.

--------------

He pulled out almost all the way before slamming back into you, pulling a moan from you at the feeling. He pulled back to look at your face for a moment "If you don't like anything tell me to stop" you nodded then remembered what he said about wanting words "I will" he smiled softly "Good girl" then caught your lips in a kiss so gentle it made your heart ache. "Gonna take care of you"

-----------

Every damn thrust was pushing you closer to that edge. You'd lost count how many times Dean had made you come. You knew he had to be close. His thrusts started to falter and you knew he was close. You started to lift your hips to meet his thrusts.

"Fuck, sweetheart. You feel so damn good baby. So damn good" you clenched at his words "Fuck Dean. I need to feel you come. Please baby"

"You first. One more time" he slipped one hand between your bodies, rubbing tight circles onto your clit. You felt that warmth rush over your body again and your vision went soft around the edges when you came. You felt his hips falter right before he asked "Can i come in you?" "Please" you moaned and he buried himself inside of you with a final deep thrust and you felt when he came, the feeling pushing another small orgasm out of you.

Dean pulled out of you gently, apologizing when you whimpered. He laid down next to you then pulled you over on his chest "catch your breath then we'll go shower" you raised your head to look at him "Probably gonna need help walking" you'd never seen him look more proud "I can do that" you shook your head then curled up on his chest.

His fingers were working through your hair as you both worked to get your breathing back to normal "So, are we doing this?" He asked and sounded so unsure. You chose not to face him when you asked "Why? Having second thoughts already?" He was quiet for a moment before saying "giving you an out" you pushed yourself up the bed to face him "Damn you Dean Winchester. I love you. There hadn't been an out for me for years. I've been your best friend for a long time before your cock was ever inside me or before you ever knew I loved you. I wasn't walking away before I damn sure am not walking away now"

He grinned slightly "even the possibility of dealing with my dad?" You shrugged "John Winchester doesn't scare me" he pulled you down and caught your lips in a quick kiss before saying "I love you" you smiled "I love you too. Now let's get some sleep because if Sam heard us he's gonna give us hell about it for days"

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction

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markrosewater · 4 months ago

Note

Hey Mark, I just wanted to say you've always seemed like a really cool guy. I've played magic for over 4/5ths of my life, since the early 2000s when I was only five years old, I even met most of my long time friends through it. But I think I finally feel alienated enough by it to drop it entirely.

I always enjoyed every aspect of this game, from the deckbuilding, to the flavor, to the color pie and the possibilities it presented. I loved the fantasy of it, of planeswalkers and wizards, dragons and castles.

Universes Beyond really was the end of it, all the way back then. When i heard the announcements I was terrified, I knew where it would lead even then. I loved the world of Magic, and it feels silly to say about a card game but I truly felt immersed in the world when I played, even with the different planes, everything cohered to an internal set of rules that seemed unbreakable.

For a while I continued, our local scene created a variant format that banned Universes Beyond cards so I was able to ignore them, but then came Neon Dynasty. It felt strange to me, like it was breaking what I had come to expect out of the game. Most people disagreed, said it was still Magic enough, but I wondered just how far it would be pushed before Magic lost any identity of its own, anything that separated it from Fortnite or any other crossover soup known entirely for the things it borrows rather than the things it is.

When I saw the first spoilers for Duskmourn, I think that was the straw that broke the camel's back. When I play at the table with my friends, I enjoy the fact that all the cards feel like part of one larger universe. And when I see cards with televisions and smartphones in them, with modern clothing and internet references, I just can't fit them together in my mind. It seems like a cool world, much like a lot of the crossovers are cool worlds, but I play Magic for well... Magic. If I wanted to play Fallout or Warhammer 40k, or watch Insidious or Walking Dead, then I would. But when I play Magic, I want to see magic.

And it's canon, just as canon as Innistrad or Alara. We can't excise it like we can Universes Beyond, and if we can't, then what's even the point of trying to "protect the tone" with those bans? What tone are we protecting, that's already been shattered from within?

More and more it feels like the game just isn't for me, doesn't want the kind of player that feels strongly about cohesion and immersion. And that's fine, it doesn't have to cater to me, and the current approach seems to bring in more people than it drives away. But it still just makes me sad, on a deep personal level, to give up on what has been such a major part of my life.

In all likelihood, I'm an outlier, and you could easily say that Magic getting even broader in what it covers is only a positive thing. Take my critiques only as the lamentations of a single person. But when you can put anything in a piece of media, when there's no unifying idea of what is and isn't possible, then it just starts to feel meaningless.

I'm sorry, I know you'll probably never read this, I mostly just needed to get it off my chest- and you're the closest thing to a human face Magic the Gathering has. Thank you for all the work you've put into it over the years, and I'm sorry that I can't enjoy it anymore.

Thanks for writing. From a big picture, Magic excels at creating variety and does poorly at consistency. The core idea of a trading card game is we make lots and lots of pieces you can play with and then you, the player, customize your game as you see fit. History has shown us, the wider we spread the potential of what Magic can be, the more people find something they enjoy and are attracted to the game.

Think of it this way. Each player has a different sense of what Magic is to them. There's no cutoff point where we make the majority of players happy. In fact, for many players, it's the ever-expanding quality to the game that they enjoy most.

This does mean though that we might make choices that don't connect with what you personally enjoy, and I respect that. If Magic isn't providing what you want out of it, that's okay. My only recommendation is don't get rid of your cards. Many Magic players rotate in and out of the game, and the number one complaint I hear from players who rotate back in is them having gotten rid of everything when they rotated out.

Magic might not be what you need right now, but maybe a few years from now you've changed in ways which makes it something you will enjoy. Or maybe Magic will evolve in a way that speaks to you. The only constant I know is you and Magic will both change. Just leave yourself the possibility of reconnecting.

Thanks for playing all these years, and I hope to see you again.

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dreamingofep · 9 months ago

Text

A Blue Velvet Crush

(Elvis/Austin!Elvis × reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

TW: Cussing, teasing, SMUTTT, fingering

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact)

Word Count: 5.4K

A/N: Hello everyone! This picture of Elvis lives rent free in my head and I knew when I first saw it, I had to write something for it.

If you've never seen some of this performance, I'd recommend watching! I'll make another post with the youtube link!

Thank you again❤️

Sorry for any spelling mistakes or goofs.

Mississippi, September 26th, 1956

Traffic was backed up for miles and the buzz in the air was electrifying. You couldn’t hide your nerves though. You weren’t even supposed to be here today but by the grace of God, you got thrown in the ring and had to cover today’s most important story. Elvis Presley was back in his hometown of Tupelo, Mississippi to perform a charity concert. His rise to fame seemed to happen overnight and everyone was dying to see him in person.

You were just an intern at the Tupelo Mirror and your supervisor that was running the Elvis story got sick this morning. Eric called you at the crack of dawn, frantic that no one was going to be there to take pictures. You had only been at the newspaper for a month and a half, you didn’t want to overstep your role and be too forward, but you mentioned that you have photography experience. You ran your college photography club and were majoring in journalism. You know you can take some decent shots of him. You try to sell yourself, affirming you can do this! The whole reason you were working for the newspaper was to get a better shot of getting a job at a newspaper company after you graduated. You thought this would be the perfect way to gain the experience. And if you got some good pictures of Elvis Presley? That could change your whole life.

You did have a fondness of the man but like, who didn’t at your age? He was the new cool guy who was causing havoc wherever he went. He was talented and had this luring sense about him. You hadn’t ever seen him in person, but based on the few televised appearances he’s made, he was beyond incredible. You knew he had a talent that no one had ever had. Your parents would always make a fuss if you were watching him and tried to make you feel bad for it.

“No Christian boy should be moving like that! It’s abhorrent.” Your parents used to say.

You’d just roll your eyes and grumble under your breath. Your parents didn’t understand that he was something young people could love and be fully immersed in without having to act all prim and proper about it. There was no other artist that would make you feel the way Elvis made his audiences feel. He was passionate and he felt the music to his very soul. It showed so easily he didn’t have to say he loved what he was doing.

And now you were going to be feet away from Elvis, taking his picture and maybe even getting the chance to ask him a few questions. The cars started moving forward more and before you could get through the gates, a police officer stopped you. You rummaged through your satchel and pulled out your press pass. He quickly nodded and directed you to the portion of the lot where other photographers and press reporters were gathered. You quickly find a spot and throw your car in park. You throw your satchel over your head and grab your camera out of its bag. It wasn’t the most high-end camera but it took nice pictures. You double-checked the camera had enough film and quickly made a beeline to the stage.

There were thousands of people here already and the buzz in the air was electric. You saw girls jumping up and down giddy that they were about to see Elvis live. You had some of the men standing next to them with a bored expression on their faces like they didn’t want to be there. You had to play it cool though. You had your press badge on and the last thing you needed was for someone to see you acting giddy when you had to be professional today.

There was a corralled section for the press behind ropes that gave you a bit better access on the side of the stage but it was still very crowded. Not only that, but it was all men here and they were all significantly taller than you. You couldn’t see a damn thing from this area and became worried you weren’t going to be able to get one good photograph of this entire thing!

You try to push and shove your way closer to the front but just get these condescending looks toward you and don’t budge an inch for you. You didn’t expect anything less honestly, the industry was made up of men and wasn’t exactly kind to women entering the workplace. You shake it off, not letting it get to you too much.

The audience starts screaming as the band takes their place on stage. It’s a small band with just a drummer, bassist, and guitar player. They’re all smiles when they hear the crowd go wild for them. Your eyes are focused on the side of the stage though. You want to get the first glimpse of him when he gets on this stage.

The audience continues to grow antsy and an announcer hops on stage. He steps in front of the microphone at center stage and taps it with his finger.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I know you all are very excited to have one of our very own from Tupelo be here today. I need you to give a warm welcome to Elvis Presley.”

The crowd erupts at his name and everyone bursts out in insane excitement. You keep your eyes on the side of the stage and you raise the camera to your face, getting ready for the first shot.

The audience gets louder and you feel the hair on your arms rise. There you see him. He’s dressed in a velvety blue long-sleeve and loose black slacks with his perfect white oxfords. His hair was greased back and looked shiny. He had his guitar on and made his way to the microphone. From this angle, he looked so tall, his legs easily gliding him across the stage.

He carried this nervous energy about him tho. He puts his hand in his pocket and grabs the microphone with the other hand.

Click.

He starts Heartbreak Hotel and drives the place insane. Everyone is screaming and some girls are even crying. His voice rings out flawlessly and once he starts singing, there’s no stopping him. He can’t seem to stand still. Whether it’s the music moving him or the nerves, he is shaking and moving, making the crowd even more insane.

There are times when the screams overpower his voice coming through the microphone. He has an amused look on his face the whole time though. Especially when he swings his hips and makes the girls go bezerk. You catch yourself blushing at those moves, how he can move his hips so easily as he makes these in-passion faces. He made you feel something you’ve never felt before. It was bad, it was lust driving you to keep looking at what he was going to do next. You wanted him to move more to see just how those hips would move in other circumstances…

Click.

Fucking focus.

He wasn’t afraid to get close to his fans. It looked like he really loved them. You could tell he moved his leg just to get them going and have them look there. Or how he’d say a certain word and prolong it all sensually, it drove the place nuts. Even just the way he held the microphone and dragged it along beside him. He commanded that stage by doing the smallest things. Elvis walks slowly to the edge of the stage where dozens of fans reach out their hands for him. He gets close and reaches out his hand too, still singing and never missing a beat.

Click.

You get the side profile of him but you think it’s going to be a great picture when it develops. What you really want is a perfect picture of his face straight onto the camera. That would be a great way to solidify that you are a great photographer and can do this professionally.

Elvis finishes his set and gets rushed off stage into the building behind the arena. You follow the crowd that’s trying to get to him, hoping you can get another picture of him that’s even better than the ones you took. The other photographers aren’t paying any attention to you and push and shove their way through. You huff annoyed, hoping you can get in there before they close the doors.

You find a spot on the side but all the men in here are so much taller and crowding Elvis. You slump by the door, frustrated that you might have ruined your big chance to prove yourself at the newspaper as you haven’t gotten a single shot of his face straight on. You wanted to the perfect shot and it seems your opportunity was wasted.

“Alright everyone it’s time to leave. Elvis won’t be answering any more questions,” a man bellows. Most of the men try to protest but they slowly start to funnel out of the door. You continue to get pushed aside until you’re almost behind the door. You don’t move from behind there because, for a brief second, a devious idea pops into your head.

Just stay here long enough for everyone to leave and ask for a picture when he’s alone.

Your heart pounds away at just the thought of being alone with Elvis but you had to try it. The worst he could say was no and get out.

The last few remaining men shuffle out of the room and Elvis yells out that he’ll be right out. The door shuts closed, making your little hiding spot be exposed in plain sight.

Elvis had his back to the door so he didn’t see you right away. You sighed in relief for that but had to work up the courage to say something to him.

What exactly should you say in this situation? ‘Hi I snuck in your dressing room even though I was told to get out, can I take a few pictures of you for the newspaper?’

You cringed just thinking about it. You took a few deep breaths and straightened out your dress.

“Umm, excuse me, Elvis?” You say sheepishly.

He turns around quickly at the sound of your voice and stares wide-eyed at you. He doesn’t say anything right away and neither do you because seeing him this close and in person is too much.

He is beautiful, in every shape and form, he is beautiful. You’ve never seen such a handsome-looking man before in your life and have no words. Logical thinking went out the window with him and he looks at you with the same expression on his face. You haven’t said more than four words to him but you want him. You want him to look at you and touch you and never stop. Your core flutters at that scandalous thought.

“You scared me there honey. H-how’d you get in here?” He asks with a mischievous grin forming on his face.

“W-w-well I uhhh. Well, I work for the newspaper and I was wondering if I could take a few more pictures of you?” You ask nervously. A long silence fills the room and you are about to turn on your heels and run for the door when he gives you another cheeky smile.

“Sure, I don’t mind at all. What was your name lil’ darlin’?” He asks smoothly.

Lil’ darlin’.

Jesus Christ I’m not going to make it out of here alive with all his charm suffocating me.

“Oh gosh Elvis, thank you so much. This truly means so much to me. And my name is y/n.” You tell him in a hurry. You make sure your camera is on and ready before you look back up at him watching you intently.

“Y/n… that’s very pretty…Where’d you want me, honey?” He coos.

Your heart pounds in your ears and you can’t register anything he just said. All you can do is look at him in shock and can’t believe you’re alone with him. You know how many thousands of girls would kill for a moment like this? And the question he just asked?! Ooh, the sheer audaciousness he has. He knows he's irresistable.

I'd love you to cover me in kisses with those pillowy soft lips...

“Huh?” You say in a daze.

“Where did you wanna take my picture honey? You’re the photographer and all,” he teases. You feel the heat rise to your cheeks and you nervously look down at your camera.

“Oh yeah… sorry… I’ve never really done this,” you admit. His eyebrows shoot up surprised, “First time? Wow, that’s somethin’ for a little lady coming here and coverin’ a story on a day like this. The whole town is making a huge fuss over me, I don’t think deserve it, but it’s very special either way. I’ll make sure to give you the best pictures,” he winks. It feels like your heart just about stopped by that one minuscule movement.

Stop that. Stop that right now!

You sweetly smile up at him and move further into the room, trying to see what angle and lighting would be best. The wall behind him was blue and you thought that would be a perfect backdrop to accentuate the velvet shirt he was wearing and his piercing blue eyes.

“Umm, let’s try with you stand there. I think that would be a nice background,” you say.

He casually takes a few steps back and puts his hands in his pockets.

“Like this?” He asks. You raise the camera to your face, make sure the frame is straight, and push the button.

Click.

He looked good without even trying. He had this golden aura about him. Like he shined from within. He was remarkable and you know that without saying much else to him. Even if you didn’t like him already, you can see the appeal. He was so easy to love. So easy to be around. Everything about him was inviting and warm. You don’t know how you were going to peel yourself away from him…

“Okay, how about one smiling?” You ask. He nods his head and gives you this cute cheeky smile.

Click.

God help me I can’t breathe with this man around looking this good.

“How are they comin’ out honey?” He asks, his southern inflection on honey making you feel like the actual word.

“Oh, just fine. I think they’re going to be amazing when printed,” you try to say casually.

“Oh good… what are you doin’ working for the newspaper?” He asks, fixing the sides of his hair with a comb.

Click.

“I don’t work for the newspaper, not yet at least. I’m just an intern. I’m a student at the University of Mississippi studying journalism and thought it would help to work there for a bit so when I graduate in two years, I can hopefully get a job at a newspaper,” you explain.

He intently looks at you, interested in everything you have to say, “That’s wonderful honey. I think that’s great you’re pursuing that. I don’t doubt for a second you won’t get a job anywhere you apply for,” he says sweetly. You can’t help but blush at his nice words and fiddle with your camera.

“Thank you, Elvis,” you say quietly. He walks over to the sofa that’s up against the wall and casually takes a seat.

He stretches out one arm along the back of the couch and the other rests on the arm of it. His legs were spread open and your eyes can’t help but stare at them. They were so long and he exuded sensuality, it nearly made you dizzy. He sees how you’re looking at him, intrigued with the man that so many found attractive.

You raise the camera to your eye once again as he looks down the lens intensely.

Click.

You felt like screaming like those girls were earlier. You’ve never felt so attracted to someone’s presence. It kind of scared you in a way.

He moves on the sofa slightly, bringing his hand to his mouth and giving you this luring, sultry gaze.

Oh lord, I’m a dead woman…

Click.

He doesn’t change this pose after the flash goes off, he continues to sit there with his eyes drinking you in. Your body can’t take this, the tension in the room is palpable and you are seriously considering running out now since you have plenty of good shots. Elvis slowly starts to lower his hand from his mouth and you see he was biting his lip behind it this whole time. He slowly drags his teeth across it before letting it go with a pop.

“Anyone ever tell you how beautiful you are?” He asks softly.

You can’t hide your flushed cheeks anymore and lower the camera from your face to see if he’s being serious. His eyes look heavy and somber, but he cracks a little grin to lighten the mood.

“Oh, no… not something I normally hear,” you say insecurely.

“That’s a shame darlin’, you really are. You have the most gorgeous smile, beautiful eyes, and the longest legs I’ve ever seen,” he gushes.

I’m dead. I’ve gone to heaven and died. This can’t be happening!

“Well thank you very much. I could say the same for you,” you say coyly.

His eyebrows raise at the blunt remark and chuckles softly to himself. He lowers his hand off the back of the sofa and places it on the empty space beside him, looking at it, then looking back up at you. He doesn’t need to say another word, he pulls you in without trying.

You carefully place your camera on the table and take your bag off your shoulder. You make your way to sit beside him as your heart gallops like a racing horse.

He turns his body a bit to face you more and being this close to him is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. You have to hold your breath or he might notice how nervous you are.

“No guy back home telling’ you how pretty you are hmm?” He says, tucking back stands of hair behind your ear. All you can do is shake your head no. His fingertips barely graze the lobe of your ear but it makes you feel weak anyway. The arousal dripping from your core is not helping the situation and not letting you think clearly.

“Oh, well I’m sorry men are so blind over there. I think you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” he quips, giving you a cheeky smile. “The most pretty eyes, the most pretty nose, the most pretty pink lips I’ve ever seen,” he coos, leaning in closer until you can feel his breath on your lips.

You can’t take it anymore and lean in, devouring his lips with yours. You let out a deep breath as your mouth touched his, his lips feeling softer than you could have ever possibly imagined. He was so gentle with his kiss, making sure he wasn’t overstepping your boundaries. But you didn’t care about that. You screamed for more from him. More kisses, more long heated stares, more everything.

You boldly, place your hand on his bicep, pulling yourself closer to him. He responds to your touch and you can tell he likes it. His crushed velvet shirt felt nice underneath your fingertips and felt his toned arms. He places his hand on your cheek, pulling you in with more urgency. You feel breathless, loving the way his skin makes yours feel like it’s on fire.

Elvis softly pulls away, not before biting your bottom lip and letting a sigh slip out of his mouth.

“Those lips darlin’, I could kiss them all day,” he mutters, his eyes heavy with lust.

“What’s stopping you?” You whimper. He grins and pulls you in once more.

You can’t believe any of this is real. The way he is kissing you should not feel so good and yet it does. You put both of your hands on his chest, pulling him closer to you by the collar of his shirt. His hands start to roam along your back, feeling the curve of it and how well this dress fits you. Every inch of you wants his hands placed lower. Right at the spot that is yearning for friction from those perfect hands.

He starts to drag one of his hands to your hip, squeezing there then down the top of your thigh. Need coursed through you and you couldn’t help but open your legs a tad bit. You’re not sure if he noticed, but he let out a pleased hum as he kissed you with more intensity.

You needed to feel him. You needed to feel how soft his skin would be when it’s pressed against yours. Your hand sneaks into his shirt and feel the coarse little chest hairs he had there. You were right, his skin felt perfect and it only made you crave more. You snake your hand lower and onto the top of his thigh. You make the same movements he’s doing to you and you feel his body melt at your touch.

You move your hand a bit lower and go to caress the inside part of his thigh and you freeze.

“Oh…” you moan into his mouth.

What you felt underneath your fingertips made you cry in need of him. Dear God, he was blessed in more ways than one. He was so much longer than you expected and it made your heart leap out of your chest. His cock was warm and fully hard in his pants as your fingertips slowly start to rub against him. You pull away from his lips and have to look at what your hand is feeling.

You were going to die and see the pearly gates if you tried to have that inside of you. But God you didn’t care, you wanted him so bad. You’ve never wanted a man like this in your entire life. Looking up at Elvis, he looks calm and collected, still giving you a heated stare. He looks down at your hand, then back up to you with an innocent look about him.

“You like what you feel baby?” He asks low. You take a deep breath before answering him.

“Y-yes. Yes, I do…” you say softly, your hand moving along him more. He lets out a pleased groan and adjusts his hips slightly, liking the feeling of your touch on him.

“Do you want more? Do you want to feel what it’s like inside of you?” He coos, leaning in for a soft kiss that leaves you dizzy. Your breathing felt erratic and the ache you had in your core only worsened.

“Yes please Elvis… please,” you beg. He smirks at you and kisses your neck, sending a shock of electricity through you.

“Can I see what you’re wearin’ underneath this pretty dress honey?” He asks you. You nod your head and his fingers find the zipper of your dress easily. He slowly pulls it down and pulls down the fabric off the front of your body. You help him slip you out of your dress and sit there with your white bra and panties left on. He lets out a pleased little groan as he sees you sitting there, trembling with need. He gently touches your exposed skin, leaving little goosebumps behind. He touches your breasts gently, biting his lip as both of his hands cup them and start to play with your nipples through the fabric of your bra. You can’t help but lean into his touch loving every second of this.

He places a soft kiss on top of your breast as he reaches around and unclips your bra. He quickly puts one of your nipples in his mouth and sucks on it, groaning as he does so. Your back arches into his mouth, craving so much more from him. His other hand roams your body but only focuses on the top half of you. Your core was dripping with arousal and aching to be touched by those long fingers. You guide one hand between your legs and have him put pressure there.

You gasp instantly, his touch feeling better than you could have imagined but also realize you’ve soaked through your panties. He takes his mouth off of you and pulls away to look down at his hand.

“Fuck honey, how long have you been soaked like this?” He grumbles, his two fingers sliding up and down through your covered folds and creating the most delicious friction.

“Since I saw you moving on that stage,” you admit weakly.

He chuckles softly, “Oh honey, why didn’t you tell me sooner… this pussy just weepin’ for me?” He asks as his fingers slide the elastic of your panties to the side and expose your leaking core to him.

“Yes,” you moan. He nods his head and slowly pushes a finger inside of you. You both groan together, filling you so nicely. Your hips rock into his hand, needing everything he can give you.

You throw your head back as he adds another finger inside of you.

“Elvis,” you moan, your chest heaving for more. He watches you intently, liking how on edge you are for him. His fingers twist and curl inside of you and you gasp for air. He likes what he’s doing and can’t get enough got you either.

“You feel so nice and wet baby. Can I give you my cock now?” He asks.

“Please, I want you Elvis, please give it to me,” you beg, reaching for his belt and unfastening it. He pulls down your panties and you lift your hips to help him get them off. You then work on the button of his pants and slide down the zipper. He lifts his hips up too to take them off and you watch as his cock comes out. Oh God, you were weak by just looking at it. His pink tip was peeking out from his foreskin and clear precum started to dribble down his length. His hand wraps around his length and spreads some of that slickness around the tip of him, moving his hand up and down slowly. You look back into his intense eyes and don’t know what to say.

“You want to ride me, honey?” He asks. The look on your face must have shown the apprehension you had thinking about taking him like that. He rubs his thumb along your cheek and smirks at you.

“It’ll feel so good baby. You’re so wet for me, you’re going to cover my cock in your sweet honey and make us feel so good,” he groans as you watch him swirl his thumb around the tip of his cock. A pent-up moan escapes your lips and quickly straddle his hips, needing him more than ever.

He rubs his length through your folds, covering him in your arousal and making you both moan with the sensation. You hold onto his shoulders and press kisses to his cheek. You feel him line himself up to your entrance and hold your hips. Elvis looks up at you with need and his eyes are begging you to have him. You felt the heat of him pressed there against your entrance and you can’t wait any longer. You start to sink down on his impressive length, moaning as you take the first few inches. He felt so good, filling you so completely and stretching out your tight entrance. He throws his head back onto the couch and groans as you take him, squeezing your hips tightly.

The sounds he makes when he’s getting pleased goes straight to your head. You love the way he groans as you move slowly on him. You never knew you could be so attracted to the sound of a man getting pleased. You take more of him inside you and cry out his name, overwhelmed it can be feeling this good.

“You feel so good, honey. You like how my cock feels inside you?” He groans into your ear. You gasp as his hips move up into you, stuffing more of his length inside of you.

“Yes, oh fuck yes,” you cry out.

You move faster on him, wanting more of him and feeling your walls fluttering each second. His eyes watch how your breasts bounce as you’re riding him, drunk at the very sight of you. You close your eyes, overwhelmed with all the sensations he’s giving you and those eyes only make it worse and worse.

Your hips grind at the base of his cock and you both whimper. Your clit rubs at the base of him and you feel your walls start to clench around him. You ride him harder, chasing the high of your orgasm. You look back into his eyes, desperate for him to help you.

“E-Elvis… oh please,” you beg.

“Come darlin’, I wanna feel you come for me,” he groans as he snaps his hips into you, causing his cock to get deeper inside you.

You whimper in agony, not being able to hold on much longer. His hands are back on your hips and help you move more. Your breathing is ragged and your vision is blurry, you thrust a few more times on him and you feel your body shudder hard. Your walls squeeze around his length and cry out his name like he’s your saving grace. He groans with you, loving how good you feel around him. He helps you rock your hips into him more, making you come more than you ever have in your life. Your head feels dizzy and your body feels like it’s floating. You never knew a man could make you feel this good.

You keep riding him and don’t want to stop. He was still making these sinful sounds that sent a pulse straight to your pussy as you hear him getting pleased by you. He bites his lower lip as he stares at you, beaded sweat gathering at his temples and his breathing becoming more frantic.

“Ah, honey you feel so damn good. I need to come now,” he says gruffly. He picks you up off of him and has you stand in between his open legs. He grabs his cock in his hand once more and starts to jerk himself off, staring at you with need. You wanted to touch him again, feel the warmth of his length fill your hand. You boldly get on your knees and take his hand off of himself. You wrap your small hand around him and his eyes roll back in his head. Your wetness covered his length and made it easy to move your hand on him. You angle his length toward your chest and he bucks his forward and falls apart. His seed comes out in thick, hot, spurts and lands on your chest. He groans loudly and cusses under his breath with each stroke of your hand.

“Oh yes honey, yes,” he moans.

He’s trying to calm down and regain his normal breathing but your thumb continues to tease his extra sensitive head. He groans in agony, loving and hating how you’re playing with him.

“God honey I-I-I ain’t never felt so good,” he sighs. “Come here,” he says opening his arms to you.

You get up and sit on his thigh, your spilling arousal making a mess on him. You wince when you feel the wetness spread on him and look up at him with an innocent smile.

“Sucha messy lil’ girl hmm?” He teases.

“Mhmm, you’re quite messy too,” you quip, looking down at your chest with him covering it.

He laughs amused, “Well, you felt too good what can I say,” he says cutely, placing a soft kiss on your lips.

“I had to say thank you in some way for letting me take some pictures of you,” you say shyly.

“Oh, you didn’t need to, but I’m so thankful you did,” he winks.

You kiss each other more, reveling in this moment together, not wanting it to end so soon. But you knew he had other places to be, you couldn’t keep him in here forever.

“I don’t want to keep you from your day. The whole town is so happy you’re here,” you smile.

“Thanks, honey. It’s nice to be celebrated in sucha nice way,” he says caressing your face, “but this might have been my favorite thing I got today.” He says cutely.

“And what’s that?” You ask smartly.

“You, my new favorite reporter.”

Tagging:

@powerofelvis @burninlovebutler

@neptuneismysister @velvetelvis @ccab @presleyenterprise @loving-elvis @theresalwaysep

@prompted-wordsmith@sillybookmarks @dkayfixates @ellie-24 @rktismylife-blog.@myradiaz@tacozebra051

@thatbanditqueen

@18|kpeters @flwrs4aust @emma181873

@austinswhitewolf @eliseinmemphis

@everythingelvispresley @chasingwildflowers @idontwanttoputanything @ohjustpeachy

@elvisalltheway101 @austinsmutler @kingdomforapony

@generoustreemystic @claire-elvisgirl

@ashtag6887 @burnthheparaphilia @richardslady121

@jaqueline19997

@returntopresley. @iloveelvis @rjmartin11 @that-hotdog @louisejoy86 @misspresley @cattcb @annapresley8

@arrolyn1114 @raginginkedslut @epthedream69

@mh777ep1938 @50sexyshadesfashionista

@oldhOllywOod @hooked-on-elvis @livelovedilfs

#elvis presley #elvis fans #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presely smut #elvis smut #elvis x you #elvis x y/n #elvis x reader #50s elvis #elvisaaronpresley #elvis imagine #elvis fic #elvis fluff

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creepswrites · 2 months ago

Text

MASK OF HATE (CH 3) | Michael x Reader

just when i was finally starting to feel better physically, i tanked mentally :') so i'm sorry it's taken me so long to update. i hope this was worth the wait though! i promise i Do plan to work on other stuff besides just MoH but rn i just. needed to write Michael for a bit

MICHAEL MYERS x FTM!READER (he/him)

SUMMARY: You internally cursed Dr. Loomis for tormenting this man for so, so many years. Embodiment of evil your ass, he was so obviously desperate for love and care that he'd practically thrown himself at you as soon as you'd proven you would love him no matter what. He was more than the traumas he felt compelled to reenact. He was so, so much more and you loved every part of him.

PREV || NEXT

Halloween in Haddonfield was always a high-strung time for the town.

Ever since the Halloween killings a few years ago, the town had taken a hesitant approach to the holiday. Parents made a point to accompany their kids everywhere or just simply stay home with them. If phones went down or power went out, babysitting teens were told to cross the street and get help, no matter what. Despite the horrors, people still dressed up, still went looking for candy, and still snuck out to make out with their respective partners.

Halloween for you had been quiet. You'd gone to a small costume party with your friends and tried to stay busy. You knew Michael was out working since news of his crimes reached your party, people whispering and gasping at the reported murders coming from the televisions.

You tried not to think about it.

By the time you got home, it was nearly 2am and you were exhausted. As though sensing your arrival, the Boogeyman stepped out of the shadows of your kitchen, bloodstained and breathing heavily. "Busy night?" You'd called to him with a tired smile. He tilted his head in lieu of any response.

With the holiday over, you wondered what Michael would do next. For many nights after, you lay in bed and bore holes in your ceiling as you tried to come up with a plan. Would he leave? Go back to Smith's Grove? Surely he couldn't keep killing, right? There'd be no people left in Haddonfield eventually. But was that the point?

You didn't know. You didn't like not knowing.

But he didn't do any of those things. Instead, he'd sit on your couch and watch television, intrigued by the cartoons, or follow you around the house. If you left, he'd stalk you from a distance just out of sight. He joined you for dinner and movies in front of the television and seemed to enjoy watching horror films when you put them on. You knew him well enough to notice he had a soft spot for The Thing so you tried to put it on as often as possible.

It became the new normal. Domestic and quiet.

Months passed. Fall oranges faded to browns and whites as winter approached. You'd leave out food for Mayhem in hopes he'd come home but you began to lose hope. All you could do now was pray he didn't suffer or that he hadn't been eaten by some other animal.

Michael always watched you when you did this, stood in the doorway of the backdoor while you sat on the narrow steps, hoping your kitty would come home. It might've looked silly to him but he never tried to stop you. You appreciated that.

During all this, he didn't kill anyone. At least, not that you knew of. You tried to avoid the news and, with your dad gone, you didn't have much insider information anymore. Who knows if they were even still looking for him.

So you made a Thanksgiving feast. Michael was familiar with the concept but you knew it had likely been a long time since he'd actually gotten to participate. So you went all out - turkey, mashed potatoes, corn, green bean casserole, gravy, the whole nine yards. The two of you ate together on your couch and watched Charlie Brown episodes, eating your weights in food and falling asleep on opposite ends of the couch.

When you'd woken, you had been taken aback by how peaceful he looked when he slept. Curly hair ruffled from the awkward angle he lay against one of your throw pillows, his face still but not tense. Pretty, you thought to yourself not for the first time.

It was nice. Everything felt perfect.

One afternoon when you'd gotten back from work, you saw Michael masked up and standing on your front porch cradling something wrapped up in an old towel. "What is that?" You gasped, fearing the worse as you hurried closer.

But you broke down into tears, immediately recognizing Mayhem. Cold, trembling, and most certainly sick in so many ways but alive and home. You'd taken him to the vet's office, a sobbing mess in the waiting room. He'd need surgery for his infected wounds and have to be on antibiotics for a long time but you were just relieved he was home and safe now.

Michael never told you how he found him. You didn't ask, just baked him a pumpkin pie as thanks.

November browns turned to December blues as snow and frost began to make appearances. The first snow day, you'd bundled both yourself and Michael up and dragged him outside to see the falling snow. He wore the mask much less now, often leaving the thing in the corner of the closet, hidden away like a bad memory.

You didn't really understand that. Your best theory was that the mask compelled Michael to kill and now that Halloween had come and gone, he was back to some semblance of normal. He still wore masks from time to time - rustic paper mache ones crafted at your kitchen table on quiet afternoons - but significantly less now. Maybe it was just a Halloween thing and he was relatively normal the rest of the year? You weren't sure. Obviously, you knew better than to push about what happened with his sister but you wondered if the killings were a reenactment of the trauma.

Psychology has always interested you.

It wouldn't surprise you if the great Dr. Loomis neglected to acknowledge that Michael was traumatized, quick to demonize him rather than provide him proper care. That he didn't put together Michael went from a normal boy to suddenly completely nonverbal and monotonous after killing her. It had affected him, even if people didn't want to admit that. Michael himself included.

But wearing the classic mask a little less meant you could slip a cute wool hat on his head and drag him out, mitten-clad hands clasped together as you charged outside. "Come see, come see!"

Michael looked up at the falling snow, squinting against the snowflakes that began to freckle his face. You'd laughed and nudged him. "Try this," you said before opening your mouth and letting the snowflakes fall on your tongue.

He'd given you a bewildered look but tried it. Only because he'd grown so fond of you, you assumed.

Days passed. Mayhem made a full recovery and now spent his days lounging in the winter sun. Sometimes he'd brush against Michael for attention and the man had gotten better at returning it, fingers brushing soft black fur occasionally. It was sweet, you thought, how he'd slowly begun to reintegrate into your life.

When you caught him drawing on looseleaf papers, you decided to get him paints and canvases as an early Christmas present and cleared out your dad's old room to let him have an art studio to paint and work on his masks in private. You'd layed down old newspapers to keep the floor relatively clean when you revealed it to him. He'd spend hours up in there, painting or making masks. You'd helped him hang some up on the wall of the room with little thumbtacks as hooks. He was getting good, you'd thought as you examined a bright orange mask that resembled a jack o' lantern.

Michael didn't show you his paintings very often. That wasn't really the point anyways so you didn't mind. But there had been a few times when he'd leave a dried canvas outside your bedroom door or atop your bed like a cat offering dead animals. Your favorite so far was one of the winter sky painted with fluffy whites and cold blues with your own profile looking up at the sky. The way he painted was streaky, like his hands shook, but it was still beautifully detailed despite the messy lines and bleeding colors.

It was interesting seeing yourself through someone else's eyes translated to art. You'd kept the painting in your room and you'd trace your fingers along the raised streaks of paint, fingers running along the lines of your face. You wondered, fleetingly with bright red cheeks, if he painted you often and just never showed you.

There was a chance. You liked to think he did.

It was around the middle of December as you attempted to get ready for a holiday party. Attempted being the key word. “Michael,” you sighed, adjusting your elf hat. “I told you, I’ll be back later tonight. I’ve left dinner in the fridge and I promise I’ll call when I’m coming home.”

It was nearing Christmas when you'd gotten invited to a holiday party. You were attempting to get ready, dressing up as a cute little elf. Attempting being the key word. "Michael," you sighed, adjusting your stupid looking elf hat, "I told you, I'll be back later tonight. I've left dinner in the fridge and I promise I'll call when I'm coming home."

Michael glared at you behind the accursed Halloween mask. He had a habit of being a bit of a brat and you found it equally annoying as you did endearing. He'd put the mask on when he'd learnt you were leaving but you'd expected that. Whenever he was generally stressed out or upset, you'd find it covering his head. The symbolism there wasn't lost on you but you had more pressing things to worry about then the possible metaphor of Michael masking himself literally and figuratively.

"If you're so upset, why not come with?" You snorted to yourself as you focused on doing your eyes in a dark green with white mascara. "I can do your makeup, dress you in a cute sweater, no one would know it's you. Could be fun, yeah?"

You paused to do your lips in a dark red. Makeup wasn't really your preference but it suited the costume you wore - a dark green tunic with red and white striped knee socks with brown boots. The hat was a matching green and jingled stupidly from the little bell on the end. You'd done your face with a heavy blush and had drawn little white snowflakes in liquid eyeliner. It was cute.

The sound of heavy footsteps approaching you had you spinning around. Michael stood directly behind you and tilted his head when you made eye contact. "Wait, are you serious?" You blinked in surprise. You'd gotten good at reading him in the few months you'd spent living together and you could tell he was accepting your offer.

He gave you a blank stare before putting a hand around your neck and squeezing. You noted his tense shoulders and tried to relax. A few months ago, this gesture would have terrified you. Now you knew that it was just his way of expression. A knife and a violent hand was all he could use to convey things so you'd learnt to just roll with it, knowing that his intent wasn't to kill you.

So you didn't panic.

"I'm not making fun!" You insisted, lifting a hand to push lightly at his chest. "I just need to be sure you're actually interested in going. There'll be people there, you know that right?" Silence. "People you can't kill." More silence. "I'm not kidding either, you can't hurt or kill anyone if you come with me." It had been a long time since he'd killed anyone but you could never be totally sure of his motives. He could still be unpredictable from time to time.

Michael let you go and marched towards the dresser. You watched curiously as he fished out a black shirt and black jeans - clothes you'd gotten for him when he couldn't be in the jumpsuit - before offering them with outstretched arms. He gave you a curt nod and you smiled.

He didn't do that often so you knew he was serious.

"Alright then, c'mere big guy," you motioned for him to sit on the bed as you began gathering up makeup supplies. You kept your head turned away as he changed to offer him some semblance of privacy. Growing up in an institution meant he didn't have a lot of shame left but you always felt bad when you thought about that.

You missed the way his hands shook as he took off the mask, too busy searching for a colored contact for his injured eye. You found a pretty jade green and figured that'd work. Heterochromia was uncommon, not unheard of. Some red eyeshadow for his eyes would help cover up the scar and would also be cute for a Rudolph nose. You collected your supplies and turned to Michael with a wide smile.

That smile fell when you saw him sitting on your bed, dressed up nice as he stared at the mask clutched tightly in his hands. He stared into its face with wide, terrified eyes and that made you freeze. You'd seen that look only once before: when you held each other in the bathroom after you'd saved him from being shot.

"You don't have to go." Your voice was soft and reassuring. He looked up at you slowly and you continued. "I know this isn't something you normally do, but-" Michael blinked slowly as you rambled. "I don't want you to feel like you have to do this for me." The last thing you needed was him snapping and killing people at the party. You'd both be in trouble for that.

But you also wondered if he was unfamiliar with being given choices. You never forced Michael into things he didn't want to do and it was possible he wasn't used to that.

He stared at you for a long time, fingernails digging into latex, before he unclenched long enough for the mask to fall to the floor with a soft crunch. The two of you stared at it for a long time and he blinked rapidly as he stared. You could tell by the clenching and unclenching of his jaw that he was fighting something off.

You wanted to make it easier for him.

So you took a seat beside him and reached for his face with slow hands. His flinch made your heart break and you cooed to him softly. "It's just me," you soothed as you clicked open the container with the contact lens inside. "I'd never hurt you."

Michael relaxed slowly, watching you with something storming in his eyes. You cupped his cheek with one hand and his eyes fluttered briefly. "Have you ever put contacts in?" You asked, smiling warmly at him.

He shook his head once. This was going to be tricky.

It took some time to get the contact in. Neither of you really knew what you were doing and you kept worrying it'd roll back to his brain. But, with your combined efforts, it now sat comfortably in his eye. Pretty green-hazel heterochromatic eyes that you fought to not get lost in. Even with the scarring he looked… normal.

"Should I even ask if you've ever worn makeup?" You teased as you took out the eyeshadow. "I'll be brushing your face and around your eyes. Is that okay?"

Michael blinked slowly, which you took as a yes.

"Stop me if it gets to be too much, okay?" You said softly before dabbing the brush in the dark red and swiping it gently over his lids, relieved it covered the scar pretty well.

You weren't sure how familiar people were with his actual face. When people thought of Michael Myers, did they just see the pale, masked face of the Boogeyman? Or did they see his mugshot, televised on the evening news as they reported his escape and recapture?

When you moved to his next eye, his hand shot out to clench your hip tight. He hated feeling vulnerable. You were the only exception to his no touching rule because you'd proven your loyalty. In exchange, he'd given you protection. But he still disliked giving over control and holding you like a stressball was the only thing he could do to abate his anxiety.

You dusted some red on the tip of his nose and smiled to yourself. "So a few of my friends will be there," you hummed as you added the finishing touches on the raccoon-style eyeshadow you'd given him to hide a lot of the scars. Since he was wearing darker clothes, you reached for the black eyeshadow next with the intent of dusting it around his lids to give him a smokier look. It made him a tad intimidating, black soot that petered out into a dark red. "They'll probably try to talk to you but I'll try and take over. If they ask, we'll say you got in a car accident when you were young and haven't been able to talk since."

He gave your hip a squeeze in confirmation.

You brushed some red on the tip of his nose with a hum. "My friend Leslie is the chattiest so at least we won't have to worry about him. He's always rambling on and on about the horror novel he's writing. To his credit, it's really interesting." You began to brush a heavy blush on his cheeks, chuckling at the way he squinted against the sensation. "It's about some boy who was thrown over a waterfall before rising to take revenge on the town? I think? I mean, he'll certainly tell you all about it. I think he's calling it Behind the Mask or something, I'm not sure."

Michael opened his eyes when you finished with the blush and you froze. He looked good and you couldn't help but stare. Tight fitting shirt, half-lidded eyes decorated in smoky colors, and messy brown curls that you made a note to fluff up before you left. He looked painfully normal and pretty and you wanted to-

You cleared your throat and grabbed the white eyeliner pen. "This'll be colder but try not to move." Gently, you held under his chin to keep him steady as you began to dot little freckles along his cheeks and nose, pausing to draw larger snowflakes at the corners of his eyes. That way you two matched!

When you pulled back, you realized he'd been staring at you.

There were a few times in the time of you knowing Michael that you wondered if he could read minds. If, in order to be the scariest thing possible, he knew exactly what scared someone. But, you reminded yourself, this wasn't some Stephen King novel. Still, it unnerved you to consider he knew what you thought of him privately.

"Oh! I know!" You hopped up and hurried back over to your vanity, grabbing a brown headband decorated with felt horns wrapped in tiny bells. They were painfully cute and you spun to show him.

He squinted at you and you giggled. "Trust me, it'll look super cute." Sliding it atop his head, you finally got to fluff his hair out to disguise the band better. When you stepped back, you gave him a once-over and a smile.

Michael fucking Myers dressed up as a reindeer. Cute little nose, horns, and all.

"You think we should use nicknames to be less suspicious?" You hummed, tilting your head - a habit you'd picked up from him. "I could call you Mike." He glared at you and you smiled with a faux-innocence. "Aw, don't like it?" He glared harder and you laughed. "Well, if they ask for your last name, I'm making something up!"

He got up wordlessly and made his way to your vanity, examining himself in the mirror. As expected, he didn't say anything. But he did touch lightly at his eyes, curious when the powder came off on his fingers. You joined him, looking you both over in the mirror. From the outside, you two looked like any normal young couple heading for a Christmas party.

“Well Mikey,” you said as you grabbed your bag, “Shall we?”

You laughed at the slow, unimpressed blink he gave you.

You were honestly impressed Chrissy managed to get so many people to come. She'd been very popular in high school - a cheerleader who'd dated the quarterback of the football team, well-liked, and clearly still riding that high despite graduating out of high school cliques. Chrissy had been a year above you but had always been one of those girls to try and invite everyone she knew to any events she threw. So you weren't exactly close friends but you'd helped her with a school project once and apparently that was enough for her.

The house was decorated to the nines, lined in little white lights that glistened against the freshly fallen snow. Little reindeer animatronics made of the same lights "grazed" in the front yard and little candy cane lights lined the pathway. It all felt a little magical. A small flurry had picked up when you and Michael got out of the car and made your way up to the front door.

Michael paused to look up at the sky while you rang the doorbell, listening to the melodic chimes ring out inside the house. You swore he almost smiled, his hair dusted in little white flakes when he looked down at you. Your heart seized at the sight and you were struck with the urge to k–

Chrissy opened the door, smiling wide and dressed in an inappropriate Mrs Claus outfit. She surveyed you both and let out a surprised gasp, the corners of her mouth curling in delight. "And who's this hottie?" She whispered at you while giggling like a schoolgirl. "I didn't know you knew any cute guys. No offense." She twirled her hair, shamelessly looking Michael up and down.

Jealousy shot through you like a bolt of lightning. "He's my boyfriend."

"Oh," she seemed almost disappointed, which you tried to brush off. She'd always felt a little entitled towards whomever she determined was the most attractive guy. It was just how she was, even if it pissed you off in the moment. "Well, I'm happy for you!" She spun on her heel and led you both into the house, gesturing for her butler to take your coats. "Feel free to mingle, lovebirds! We've got drinks, food, and our chef made a bunch of cookies."

Michael seemed to notice the lovebirds comment and you flushed, giving a nod and smile to Chrissy while trying to ignore his stare boring into the back of your head. "Thanks. Oh, um, here!" You reached into your bag and held out a small, nicely wrapped gift. "For the Secret Santa."

She lit up and took the box enthusiastically. "Ohmygosh, thank you! I was just going to ask." Chrissy added the box to a nearby table and clasped her hands together excitedly. "Alright, perfect, you're free to go!"

You led the way to the kitchen, dodging a few familiar faces with smiles and waves and promises to return once you'd gotten some food and drinks. Michael held your wrist the whole way there, squeezing harder and harder the more people spoke to you.

The kitchen was huge, white, and perfectly pristine. The maid who cleaned everything always made their house look like an interior design catalog rather than an actual home. A large plate of highly elaborate sugar cookies lay atop the countertop, a large amount already missing with only trails of crumbs indicative of their place there.

You grabbed a candy cane shaped cookie and gestured for Michael to grab one. "I think you'll like these." He just stared at you, eyes widened ever so slightly. "What?" You asked through a mouthful of cookie. His head tilted slightly and you swallowed nervously. "Sorry for the, um, boyfriend comment. It just, uh, it felt like a safe alibi, y'know?"

Michael stared at you, eyes calculating. You prepared a million apologies in your head before he reached for a snowman cookie and bit into it, never breaking eye contact. You weren't sure if that was approval or disapproval so you both just stood there, staring awkwardly at each other and eating sugar cookies. Your fingers drummed anxiously on the cold marble tile of the kitchen counter as you tried to stand your ground.

When he finished his, Michael stepped closer to you and placed a hand at your waist. He leant forward and pressed his lips to your forehead, making you gasp in surprise. It wasn't exactly a kiss but the intent was there and the message was clear. You swallowed when he pulled back and you swore his eyes softened. "Okay, okay, cool," you said quietly, trying - and failing - to hold back your smile.

Standing on your tiptoes, you pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek and smirked to yourself about the faint lipstick stain there. You snagged another couple cookies and a glass of cider. His cheeks were a soft pink when you passed him one of the cookies. "Shall we brace the music?" You grinned as you took his arm and led him out the door back into the party.

Everything went perfectly, all things considered. Of course, everyone you knew wanted to meet your new boyfriend. "It's a recent development," you'd say as Michael took a drink to avoid talking. "I met him when my car broke down and we just… hit it off, y'know?" You'd smile as though recounting the memories through your pleasant buzz from the cider.

"How long have you been dating?" You were asked a few times.

"Oh, a month and a half now, I think. It feels like it's been longer." You'd say while Michael chewed on cookies.

It had been, if you thought about when the starting point of your relationship could've been. Maybe not long after he'd gotten sick and you'd cared for him in a way he hadn't had since he was a child. Or maybe after you'd both made a wordless pact to each other while your father lay bleeding on the kitchen floor. Hard to say. But calling him your boyfriend had come so easily that you questioned how long you'd considered him that in your subconscious.

When Chrissy announced her parent's arrival with a few of their friends in tow, you went to greet them without a second thought. You froze in fear when you caught sight of her father: John Kallas. Officer Kallas. A friend of your father's who had been part of the team searching for Michael around Halloween.

You clutched Michael's arm and steered him to a quiet hallway of the house. "Don't let her dad see you," you whisper-yelled. When he tilted his head, you ran a nervous hand through your hair. "He was one of the cops looking for you. He might recognize you."

Michael didn't visibly react but you did notice him clenching his jaw. "I didn't know he'd be here! I hadn't thought of it until I saw him." You sighed, frustrated with your own anxiety rising. "I'm sorry. Do you want to leave?"

He seemed to think it over but you were interrupted by heels clicking on the tile floor. In a panic, you grabbed his wrists and put his hands at your waist. "Act like we were kissing." You whispered as you leant in, bumping your foreheads together.

His head tilted askew slightly and gave you a moment to mess up your lipstick a little. The footsteps came to a halt and you heard a familiar laugh that made all the anxiety in your body melt away in an instant.

Kalei stood with their arms crossed, looking you both over with an amused expression. "So is this the guy you were telling me about back in September?" They laughed at seeing the way you hid your face in your hands in embarrassment.

Michael gave you a quizzical look and you groaned. "Yes, yes, he is." You confessed with an exhausted sigh. "But shh!" You waved a hand at them to try and quiet them.

They didn't back down though. "He would gush about you at work to me all the time," they drawled out, ignoring your flustered protests.

"I didn't-!"

"You better treat him right!" Kalei said, crossing their arms over their chest. "I may not look it but I can pack a serious punch."

Michael blinked slowly before looking back at you. "What do you need, Kalei?" You sputtered, trying to change the topic before your impromptu boyfriend decided to make a scene.

"Oh, the Secret Santa's starting. Came to getcha." They gestured for you both to follow with an impish smile growing on their face. "Better hurry up before people start making assumptions." They teased with a waggle of their eyebrows.

Your face lit up like a torch and you gently pushed Michael away to march down the hall. "N-no, wouldn't want that, yeah." Your voice sounded far away to your own ears, too much blood pounding through your head.

Michael followed on your heels like a loyal dog and you tried to ignore the way that made you feel.

You and Michael took a seat on one of the couches and you held his arm almost possessively, especially when you noticed some of the other girls at the party kept looking at him with bashful faces. It pissed you off just how shameless they were even when they knew he was dating you. Was it that hard for people to believe?

The absence of John Kallas made you think that he and his buddies had gone into one of the other rooms. Which put your mind at ease, at least a little.

The Secret Santa was relatively uneventful. You clapped politely as people opened their gifts and were surprised when Chrissy handed you your gift from her. A book on growing vegetables with a tab already inside on a picture of a tomato plant. "You think I should grow tomatoes?" You gave her an amused smile.

"Well, duh! It, like, suits your whole vibe, y'know? I'm surprised you don't grow more vegetables." Chrissy had nudged you gently as you began leafing through the rest of the book, skimming the words as Michael watched over your shoulder.

As it finally came time to leave, you were saying your goodbyes to Chrissy when you spotted Officer Kallas leaving the kitchen. You pulled Michael out of there quickly, hoping that the stumble the officer gave was simply him tripping and not because he'd seen The Boogeyman as your date to his daughter's party.

Your walk back to the car was brisk and silent. White snow was like stars as it fell overhead before coming to rest on your shoulders and the ground below. "Thank you for coming," you said, reaching over to squeeze Michael's hand. "It was nice having you there."

Before you could pull your hand away completely, he gave you a squeeze of his own before climbing into the passenger seat.

Oh, you thought to yourself. Oh.

For Christmas, you'd gotten Michael a drum set.

It had been an impulsive buy, a decision you had made while walking past a thrift store and noticing a decently priced set on display in the window.

He enjoyed doing things with his hands - be it painting, making masks, or, most recently, helping you decorate Christmas cookies. So you figured he'd get a kick out of drumming. You lived far out enough that he could afford to be loud without worrying about waking the neighbors up and you had a detached garage he could play in. Maybe when the weather got warmer, he'd move outside.

And it might help him to let energy out. You'd caught him giving death glares to random postmen who came to your door and he'd already begun the habit of wearing the accursed Halloween mask around the house again. So you didn't want him to get bored.

“Here,” you said as you passed him the drumsticks. He examined them curiously and you gestured to the drums. When he gave you an empty stare, you took one of the stucks and whacked on the cymbals. That made Michael’s eyes widen and he moved around to take a seat. “You can be as loud as you want with them. No one’ll hear soooo… go crazy!”

Michael took the stick back and held them both in hesitant hands. With a few bangs that seemed exploratory coupled with getting the hang of pressing his foot to make a lower noise, he seemed to catch on pretty quick. His banging grew in speed and volume as he gained confidence and you laughed, covering your ears when the sound echoed off the walls of the small space. "You got it!" You called over the crashing cymbals.

A loud bang signified the end of his "song" and he stared at you with wide, crazy eyes, panting heavily. "Fun, right?" You smiled at him. "They're all yours so you're free to come play them whenever you want."

His lips curled into an almost feral smile that made you smile back. You'd never seen him smile before, much less like that.

Over the next few days, Michael continued sneaking – literally sneaking, like he'd be in trouble if you spotted him – into the garage to play the drums. His disorganized, chaotic banging was slowly starting to take form. Organized chaos, you smiled to yourself. The loud sounds and movements gave Michael a chance to express himself with noise which was quite the contrast to his usual quiet self.. You also found it exceptionally cute when he'd go play and come back inside hours later with his wild brown curls disheveled and a crazed grin on his face.

It had been unsettling at first seeing him smile the way he did but now it just made your heart seize. His fingers would drum on things to a tune you couldn't hear and he was painfully human now, relaxed around you and genuinely happy, from what you could tell.

So you made a mixtape for him that focused on heavy drum sounds, steady but loud beats the way he liked. At first he didn't seem too interested in it but you'd since caught him listening to it a few times, eyes closed and posture relaxed. Music wasn't something Michael had a lot of exposure to so you had fun introducing him to various bands and musicians.

Metal music seemed to be his preference, which made a lot of sense.

It was New Years when things really changed.

You and Michael had the television on with the channel turned to watch the ball drop. It wasn’t typically a tradition you cared about but you could tell your housemate was intrigued. He’d been upstairs painting for most of the day while you cleaned the house up a bit. "Spring cleaning," you said to Michael as he watched you from the kitchen. "Cleaning makes me happy. It's nice to get everything back in order after the holidays. 'sides, it's still too cold out for gardening."

Michael tilted his head but retreated back upstairs with his water jar for his paints.

Once the sun set, you made hot chocolate and ordered pizza. Michael preferred just plain cheese but you’d gotten yours with olives - something Michael always gave you looks for. "Don't knock it 'till ya try it," you'd snickered through a mouthful of pizza.

His brow furrowed in distaste as he took a bite of his own pizza.

It was cute. He had a lot of personality once you knew where to look. And he’d clearly gotten very comfortable with you during the time you’d been living together. It felt like a great honor to get to see Michael Myers do something as mundane as eat pizza in lounge clothes.

The two of you watched cartoons for a few hours until 11:57 hit. You flicked to the news channel and let your head loll to the side and rest against the back of the couch. "It's not the most exciting thing in the world," you said as you glanced at Michael, "But it's fun. It's nice to see everyone around the world get together for something like this."

Michael had just stared at the television with a slight tilt to his head. 11:59 struck and you felt your throat tighten as an idea came to mind. You recalled a conversation you'd had with Chrissy a couple years back where she'd told you about her favorite New Years tradition.

50 seconds…

It couldn't hurt to ask, right?

45…

“Hey, Michael?” Your voice was barely a whisper. You kept your eyes trained on the TV even when you felt his eyes on you.

40…

Swallowing was a challenge for you. “There’s, um, a kind of New Years tradition. That, um, it means-”

30…

“-you’ll have good luck for the rest of the year.” Your words were slow and methodical. It felt like you had to really sell him on the idea, even if you were afraid to tell him what it was. You weren't even sure you wanted to admit to yourself how badly you wanted to-

25…

“Want to do it?”

Michael just stared blankly at you. His eyes darted between yours, calculating. It made you feel flayed open despite the fact you were pretty sure he didn't know what you were talking about.

20…

He gave you a single nod. You quickly darted your tongue out to wet your lips. Now or never, you sighed internally.

“Trust me,” you said more than asked. His eyes widened slightly but he didn't pull away. You knew he trusted you and all you could do was hope he didn't react poorly.

15…

You swallowed around the heavy lump in your throat and tried to not look too worried. If he got the impression it was something bad, you may lose your chance. Lifting a gentle hand, you let your fingertips graze his cheek before slowly settling to cup his face properly.

It was like you could hear the sound of your own heart pounding even over the cheering on the television.

10…

"This okay?

9…

Michael's eyes softened and he gave a slight nod, as though worried he'd dislodge you entirely.

8…

You scooted closer, the both of you adjusting so you were sat facing each other, opposite shoulders brushing the back of the couch. He sat perfectly cross-legged while one of your legs braced against the floor.

7…

Slowly, you reached over with your free hand to tangle your fingers together in a loose hold.

6…

His eyes widened more and his lips parted. A look of realization flashed in his eyes and for a moment you worried you'd overstepped.

5…

"Still okay?"

4…

Michael gave a small nod again, eyes darting all over your face as he searched for…something. You weren't sure.

3…

2…

1…

You leant forward and pressed your lips together in a sweet kiss. The sounds of cheering that came from the television felt far away and underwater. Every sense in your body was focused on Michael - the warmth of his hand, the residual taste of hot chocolate on his lips, and the soft intake of breath you heard when your lips met.

It felt like the cheering was for you two.

At first, Michael didn't seem sure what to do with himself. With some gentle guidance, you tilted his head to the side to let him lean into the kiss better. He was clearly trying, so you scooted closer and let him set his hands on your hips to lift you into his lap without breaking the kiss.

When you parted to catch your breaths, Michael was staring at you with half-lidded, glassy eyes. It felt like your heart was going to burst out of your chest

You pulled him back in, tangling your fingers in his hair to keep him in place. His arms wrapped around your waist and you sunk into his hold. Being with him felt warm and safe.

So yeah. Things changed on New Years. But neither of you were complaining.

The snow finally began to clear up, being replaced smoothly by sleet and rain. It was honestly far more preferable to you, since it made walks in the forest more enjoyable. You'd always preferred the rain.

It had been a few weeks since the New Years and you and Michael were in some type of relationship. The word "dating" had come to mind but it wasn't really accurate. It was more than dating. You were partners in crime - literally and figuratively - as well as good friends, housemates, close confidants, and, more importantly, you saw each other. Really and truly. You'd both picked up on the others wordless sentences and slight shifts in your bodies were like loud declarations. Sure, you two held hands and he let you touch him more but that wasn't what was important to you.

Michael smiled more. He'd watch you with soft, sleepy eyes, stopped tensing whenever you cut his hair, and you'd caught him dozing off on the couch a few times.

You internally cursed Dr. Loomis for tormenting this man for so, so many years. Embodiment of evil your ass, he was so obviously desperate for love and care that he'd practically thrown himself at you as soon as you'd proven you would love him no matter what. He was more than the traumas he felt compelled to reenact. He was so, so much more and you loved every part of him.

Today, you needed to run down to the store to grab a few things. The rain had finally let up enough that you felt comfortable driving. "Michael? I'll be back around 5:30, alright?" You called into the house as you fastened your shoes.

Ever since the Christmas party, he'd gotten better about you leaving the house for short periods of time. So long as you promised to come back, that is. If you didn't, you knew he'd hunt you down with a knife and a bloodstained jumpsuit. Of that, you had no doubt.

Michael appeared in the doorway of the kitchen staring at you. You shot him a grin and grabbed your bags. "Be back soon!" You called over your shoulder as you ventured outside.

Looking back on it, you wished you'd stayed home…

You were examining a box of cereal for dents when someone approached you. "Hey," Chrissy's voice came from behind you. When you turned, she looked tense with her arms around herself and her smile was tight. Forced. Alarm bells began ringing in your head but you smiled back.

"Hey, Chrissy. Uh, you okay?"

"How's your boyfriend? What was his name, um, Michael, right?" She looked like she'd be sick and you felt white-hot adrenaline shoot through you like a bolt of lightning. "He, um, is he around?"

You swallowed, keeping your movements slow and casual. If you cracked, then she'd know. So you made a show of putting the cereal box into your cart and took the chance to look around. The aisle was empty but you caught the sign of movement near the end. Blue police uniforms, likely Chrissy's dad and his partner.

"No, he's traveling." You gave Chrissy an exhausted smile. "Y'know I'm not gonna pass your number along, right?"

She looked pale but her smile got wider and she took a small step back, like you terrified her. "Did, um, did someone die?" Her fake pout made you want to punch her in the face. Her faux sympathy oozed from her tone and you couldn't help the way your eye twitched. "Maybe his sister-?"

You froze in place. She knew. You don't know how she found out but there was no doubt she knew. Why the hell Officer Kallas had waited so long to act, let alone use his daughter as bait, was beyond you. Had he seen pictures from the party and asked Chrissy to identify him? Had he compared it to his mugshot? The thought of that made you irrationally angry.

"His dad is sick." You grit out through clenched teeth.

"You're sick," Chrissy shot back like a viper. "You've been sleeping with the fucking Boogeyman! You brought him to my house, oh my god, what if he killed-!" She choked back a sob, having the audacity to look betrayed.

Like a Barbie doll with mascara tears.

Enough was enough. You spun on your heel and marched away from a sobbing Chrissy like a man on a mission. You heard Officer Kallas call your name and you took a steadying breath before spinning, swinging the metal cart full of boxes and cans behind you and watching the two officers stumble and trip. Chrissy shrieked in fear and you took off towards the sliding glass doors. The crackle of a walkie talkie behind you was loud, too loud for you to make out any words being said. Everything in you was hyperfocused on running.

You heard heavy footsteps hot on your heel and you wished, momentarily, that you had a weapon of your own.

All you had to do was get to your car, the little piece of junk like an oasis in a hot desert. All you had to do was get in and you could get away, get to a phone booth and call Michael. Tell him to get Mayhem, pack bags, and get out. You'd promise you'd pick him up. Something. Anything.

But you’d never get the chance.

The officer tailing grabbed you around your middle and lifted you up like a bratty child hauling a cat around. “Put me down!” You shrieked and began to slam your fists on his arms.

"You're under arrest for disrupting justice, harboring a criminal, and assaulting an officer," his robotic words fell on deaf ears as you continued to fight for your life. Cornered animals bit and he was finding that out the hard way as you twisted to claw at his face.

But he easily overpowered you, shoving you into the backseat of his police cruiser and slamming the door. Tears began to fall down your face as you began to panic. Michael wouldn't know they were coming. They surely knew to check your house. They'd catch him there and then what? Would they kill him? Shoot to kill, like you remembered hearing on the radio all those months ago?

You felt like throwing up. All you could do was curl up on the leather seats and sob your heart out.

All you could do was hope he'd be okay.

Dr. Samuel Loomis considered himself a brilliant man.

He was assigned to Michael Myers' case when the young boy had first been admitted to Smith's Grove when he'd just been a young, non-speaking child. His mother had brought him in, her eyes red rimmed and pleading to help her son.

And Dr. Loomis always loved a challenge case. Every 'difficult' patient he ever had while working in this institution had eventually cracked under his methods. So he studied Michael, subjecting him to various medications, talk therapy, and tried everything to trigger any kind of response out of him. At first, Michael seemed to truly want to be helped. His mother visited every week and talked with him about home, about his life after the institution.

Michael took well to art therapy, much to Loomis' frustrations - he had strongly advised against giving the young boy access to making masks - and he started to make progress in sorting through what happened to him.

Then his parents died. It was like everything in Michael shut down after that. Walls were built up high and became impenetrable the longer Dr Loomis poked and prodded for a reaction.

Years went by and no more progress was made. It was like talking to a brick wall. A brick wall with eyes like the devil, as far as Loomis was concerned. There was no way a child could commit such atrocities without an ounce of guilt, no confession of sin. He'd advocated strongly against Michael being released on parole, insisting he was soulless and dangerous.

So Halloween came and Michael escaped, killing teenagers and reenacting the horrors he'd committed to his sister fifteen years ago. And now he had escaped yet again. This time was different though - Michael had gone missing for several months now. Too long had passed without any new murders and Loomis was becoming anxious and impatient. Police had let the case go, grateful at the idea Michael moved on to terrorize a new town.

But Dr. Loomis knew Michael Myers all too well.

He stood in his dimly lit office, watching a police car drive up through the large open window. Watching you get unloaded from the car and observing the way you fought so viciously, Loomis felt like he hit the jackpot. It was no wonder Michael was so obsessed with you. There was a darkness to you that had yet to grow anywhere. Surely he was just biding his time, playing house with you while he waited for you to snap and join him in his killing sprees.

He couldn't have that though. Michael had to be returned to Smith's Grove before he caused any more devastation.

“Doctor?” Officer Kallas’s voice broke the psychologist from his stupor.

“Come in.” He turned, looking over his shoulder and smiling when he lay eyes on you.

There you were. In handcuffs with tear tracks on your face. Your lip was split from where you'd nicked it while trying to bite Officer Kallas. “We apprehended him like you asked. We’ll head to the house to retrieve-”

“Don’t,” Loomis held up his hand to still the room. “No. We’ve got all we need right here.” He approached you slowly, like you were something to behold. You felt slimy under his fascinated stare. “Michael will come looking for him. Then we’ll catch him. We can’t give him any home-turf advantages.”

Officer Kallas nodded and shoved you forward into the room before closing the door behind him. You felt like a muzzled dog, glaring down the doctor with such hate that it reminded him of Michael.

Dr Loomis took a seat at his desk. “Tell me,” he hummed, “What was it like being held captive by Michael?” You looked at him, brow furrowed. Held captive? Was that the narrative they were running with? He seemed to misinterpret your confusion and gave you a sympathetic smile. “I know you were held by him for quite some time. Your friend Chrissy told her father about it. You were seen-”

“I wasn't a prisoner.” You spat, almost offended.

“So you were simply afraid.” The doctor clicked his pen, beginning to write something down. His scribbling felt grating on your nerves and you felt the urge to strangle the man, cuffs be damned.

But you just glared at him instead. “What is this, an interrogation?”

Dr. Loomis lifted his head and you could see the arrogance in his eyes. “I’ve studied Michael for sixteen years,” he said slowly, “And I’ve never seen him so fascinated by another human being.”

“Maybe you’re just shitty at your job.” You scoffed.

If you weren't already glaring daggers, you would have missed the disapproving look Loomis gave you. "In good time, my theory will be proven." He gave you a smile and gestured to one of the chairs sat in front of his desk. "Michael will come for you. And when he does, I will finally rid the world of that potent evil." He said with a menacing, teeth-filled smile.

You wish you’d stayed home.

#🔪 creeps writes #slasher x reader #slasher fanfiction #slasher x s/o #halloween 1978 #michael myers #michael myers x reader #michael myers x you #mask of hate

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lesbiankimdahyun · 6 months ago

Text

Summer Session

1K words

CW: None!

A/N: we are so back, baby <3 special appearance (in name only) made by SEVENTEEN’s Vernon!

[Sana x F!Reader]

Requested: Yes

Your start to the summer was boring. You hated to admit it, but it was a little lonely without the rest of your classmates around in your college town. For the 65 members of your graduate school cohort, summer meant trying to fulfill mandatory internship requirements and putting in a few hundred hours of service in your soon-to-be field. You were lucky to get an internship in the city, avoiding the hassle of subletting and juggling double rent for the next three months. But staying put also meant you were separated from everyone else; your closest school friends were now scattered across the country, interning in other cities and less available now that you were all in different time zones.

Desperate to be able to talk to someone face to face instead of over FaceTime, you downloaded Tinder. Finding a partner was of zero interest to you at the moment, but you figured if you went on enough awkward first dates, you’d meet someone who could stick as a friend. A lot of your current friendships had started out that way, anyway– as first and second dates that shifted into platonic relationships instead. You knew it was possible, you just had to put in a little effort.

One warm Friday night in June, you prepared dinner for yourself eagerly, happy to be done interning for the week. Clearing some space for your plate on the coffee table, you sat down in front of your TV. Taking a sip of the chilled wine you’d poured, you hit play on a new drama series and settled in to watch and eat.

Your meal was delicious, but the pilot episode of the show wasn’t as good as you’d hoped. Part of the way through, you pulled out your phone and opened Tinder. Your eyes flicked back and forth between the television screen and the profiles of girls on your phone. You swiped halfheartedly for a while, but quickly lost interest in that, too. You were just about to grab your book and turn the TV off when you did a double take at the next profile Tinder brought up for you.

You knew her.

It was a girl from your cohort: Sana. You sat up straight, nearly knocking your wine over as you blindly reached for it, eyes still taking in the pretty dark haired girl on your screen. You had always thought Sana seemed fruity, but since she never attended any of the queer student activities for your program and you’d never seen her at any of the gay clubs, you thought for sure you’d read her wrong.

Taking a quick screenshot, you hurriedly took another sip of wine and quickly sent it to Chaeyoung, a close friend in your program. Within seconds, your phone was vibrating with her reply.

Chae 🍓: omg

Chae 🍓: SANA?!?!?!?!?!

Chae 🍓: !!!!!!!!

Chae 🍓: i fucking knew it!!!!!

Chae 🍓: was it a match 👀

You hesitated for a moment, then went back to the app and swiped right before all of your courage left you. The app simply presented the profile of another girl after Sana’s disappeared. You chuckled to yourself, slightly embarrassed as you crafted a reply. No, you sent. Sorry to get your hopes up~

You hadn’t realized your own hopes had been up until Sunday night arrived and you noticed that none of the matches you’d gotten on the app over the weekend were Sana. And when Chae texted you curiously about it on Monday, it was even more embarrassing to admit that you had nothing new to report. You decided to give up on having any hope at all the next day. It wasn’t like you and Sana were close, after all. You’d only ever hung out outside of class to work on occasional group projects with her. There was no reason at all to expect anything from her.

But on Wednesday while you ate lunch alone on the outdoor deck of your internship office’s downtown headquarters, your phone vibrated. You sighed a little, setting down your sweating can of pop before grabbing your phone. You assumed it was a Slack message from a coworker at worst, and at best a text from Chaeyoung or another one of your friends. To your surprise, the two incoming texts you had just gotten were from a number you didn’t know.

Unknown: hey, is this Y/N?

Unknown: it’s Sana 😊

Your eyes went wide. How did she get your number? You were about to pull up your message conversation with Chaeyoung, but another text from Sana appeared. Your feeling of pleasant surprise changed to complete and utter horror. Sana had sent you a screenshot of your own Tinder profile.

Maybe: Sana: saw you~ i didn’t know you were around for the summer!

You locked your phone immediately and screamed silently, begging the earth to swallow you whole. It didn’t, so instead, you saved Sana’s number, then took a screenshot of the whole conversation and sent it to Chaeyoung with lightning speed. You had to, you thought, before you died of mortification. You gave Chae all of fifteen seconds before you then glanced at your watch and called her.

“I was literally just about to call you,” Chaeyoung’s voice was bursting with excitement. “She totally wants you,” she teased, laughing. “Well?”

You groaned. “I haven’t replied yet! And stop laughing, I might have to transfer to another program out of state because how EMBARRASSING this is.”

“Oh come on, this is a great segue!” Chaeyoung replied. “Tell her–” Chae’s voice cut out a little as your phone vibrated– another incoming text. You pulled your phone away from your ear and exhaled sharply.

Sana: vernon gave me your #, i hope that’s cool. we should hang sometime! are you free this weekend? :]

“Y/N? Hello?” Chae’s voice seemed soft and distant as you stared at your screen. You hadn’t put Chaeyoung on speakerphone, but her waiting silence felt louder somehow.

“She–” you cleared your throat a little as you processed everything and put your phone back up to your ear. “She just asked if I’m free this weekend.”

#twice imagines #twice x f!reader #twice x fem reader #sana imagines #twice x reader #we're not sinning yet #but we will be

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devilstruly · 6 months ago

Text

TRUE BEAUTY

pairing - kuroo tetsuro x gn. reader

includes - mutual pining, not really confessing but also not being very subtle about it either, late night talking, commenting on the plot of a kdrama. y/n mentioned once but i promise i had a good reason

a/n - this is mostly inspired by my internal monologue while watching the show, ergo the reader is rooting for seo-jun (i'm biased sorry). also reader is ticklish. i know it's another kuroo one i'm sorry but this man is so ugh

1.14 am

‘That's fucking adorable! Fuckkkk, why is he so cute! Oh my god!’

You found yourself snuggled into Kuroo's side comfortably, with his arm draped over the back of the couch and a blanket shared between the two of you.

‘What the fuck is cute about that?!’ He rolled his eyes at your reaction, his arm flailing around to emphasize his words.

‘He's making up rumors about them dating!’

‘Yeah because he likes her! He just doesn't know how to express his feelings, okay? He's traumatized.’

‘Everyone is traumatized, that's not an excuse. Plus, don't you always say it's best to be upfront about things?’

‘He is being upfront about it! She's just oblivious!’

'Like you would know.'

Kuroo turned his head to the side slightly so he could mumble a response, quietly enough so that you couldn't pick up on it.

‘What was that?’

‘Nothing. I just can't believe you're making excuses for that asshole.’

Hadn't it been for you being very deeply invested into the drama as well, you would definitely giggle at Kuroo's persistence.

But alas, that wasn't the case.

‘That's because he has a bike and good fashion sense.’

Kuroo huffed. ‘What's with you and bikes?’

While stating your answer, you shifted your position slightly so you'd be more comfortable, and in addition, almost naturally, Kuroo's arm wrapped around your shoulder to pull you closer.

‘They're cool.’ You replied with a grin, to which Kuroo huffed again. ‘Oh and, I like his eyes too. They're similar to yours.’

Not thinking much of your words, you continued to watch the show unfold, head resting on Kuroo's chest. You had almost forgotten about what you said, but Kuroo finally broke the silence after a while.

‘You like my eyes?’

Barely paying attention to the television, he now faced you fully, thankful to the darkness of the room for hiding his blush.

‘Hm? Oh yeah.’ As you finally acknowledged the proximity when you lifted your head, you could feel a blush of your own starting to creep up on your neck.

‘They're really pretty.’ You added after not being able to look away from the golden hues for god knows which time.

With a small smile you went back to your initial position, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself whilst Kuroo tried his best to process the newly received information.

2.01 am

‘No! No, you dumb fuck! Ugh!’

A loud groan echoed in the room before you covered your face with your hands in agony. Kuroo's hand was patting your back gently, though not very sincerely since he was wearing a satisfied expression as he watched the screen.

‘There there.’

‘Fuck off, you like this!’

With a huff you untangled yourself from Kuroo's limbs, scooting all the way to the other end of the couch.

‘I just think it works better!’ Kuroo himself raised his hands in defense, but his smile remained.

‘Bullshit! He is clearly the better option! He treats her so much better!’

‘But they're already dating and she loves her boyfriend. Besides, nothing's wrong with him either.’

‘No it's not, but Seo-jun is simply better.’

‘You're just biased because he has a bike.’

‘I'm not! I mean yeah that's a plus, but not that important! He even gave her the keys, come on!’

‘Oh so if it were you, you'd dump Soo-ho?’

You immediately recognized the sly undertone in Kuroo's voice and huffed whilst you turned to face him.

‘That's not what I'm saying. And she shouldn't dump him. She shouldn't be with him in the first place. Ugh, this is why relationships are dumb.’

This seemed to get the man's attention, and he readjusted his position on the couch, now barely looking at the TV.

‘You don't want a relationship?’ His tone became much softer than the previous question, which to you was a clear indicator that the conversation had suddenly become serious.

You chose to write the change off as the late hour delirium.

‘I mean…it's not that I don't want it, it's just like- not right now. I don't know. I mean if the person I like is - um - will be someone I can't imagine my life without, then I'd drop this…way of thinking.’

‘Oh.’

The one syllable Kuroo managed to get out had you turning your head towards him in confusion, only to be met with the sight of him mumbling something under his breath.

Opting not to point it out at the moment, you tried to distract him instead.

‘And you?’ His head shot up in an instant. ‘What's your take on relationships?’

Suddenly looking anywhere but you, Kuroo shifted uncomfortably in his seat, making you raise your eyebrows as a silent way of urging him to reply.

‘Uh…I don't- well- that's a lot of work that I don't have time for. But I think they're…great.’

He mentally cursed himself for his choice of words.

‘So…’ You began, a dangerously serious expression on your face. ‘...If you were to like someone that liked you back…what would you do?’

Patiently waiting for an answer, you hugged your knees to your chest and rested your cheek on top of them. Unable to formulate a reply, Kuroo blinked a couple of times before taking a deep breath and slowly letting the words leave his mouth.

‘I suppose…I would ask them out.’

‘Oh? Good to know.’ Your eyes widened in surprise, and a teasing smile graced your features before you turned your attention back towards the television.

On the contrary, Kuroo still sat frozen in place, eyes glued to your side profile.

‘Wh- what do you mean good to know?! For what?!’

‘Shhhh, I'm watching my husband.’

‘Nuh uh. Explain.’

Your attempts to distract your friend proved futile and with a frustrated sigh you defended yourself.

‘There's nothing to explain!’

‘Yes there is.’

‘Not.’

‘y/n.’

‘Tetsuro.’

‘Oh so we're on Tetsuro now?’

The sudden change in Kuroo's tone was drastic enough to cause you to tense, not turning to face him for the sake of saving youtself from a heart attack.

‘I- forget I said that.’ You blurted out once you finally mustered up the courage to look at him. As quickly as you said that you turned your head back around, failing to notice an idea flash across Kuroo's face.

Shuffling sounds reached your ears but you paid them no mind, until you felt a pair of hands tickling your sides. On instinct you squealed and flinched away, but with the man's quick reflexes it made no difference.

‘Wait wait- stop! Kuroo!’ You managed to get out between tears of laughter and uncontrollable shaking, much to Kuroo's entertainment.

‘I'll stop when you explain yourself.’ The smile on his face kept growing by each passing moment whilst your cries became louder.

‘I will! Just- stop- please!’ Your words were barely audible by this point, but Kuroo decided to be generous and simply flopped on top of you.

With his ear right above your heart, he could feel the rapid thumps and the heavy breathing whilst you tried to calm down.

It was once you finally managed to get your senses back that you became aware of your position, and so your heart rate remained quick as it was.

‘Kuroo?’

‘Hm?’

‘What are you doing?’

‘Me? Nothing ~’

Even though it was hard to see, you could practically feel the smile on his face growing. However, not minding the situation much, your hands threaded through his hair curiously and in return Kuroo became more at ease.

3.46 am

‘Kuroo.’

‘I'm sleeping.’

‘Then go to bed.’

‘Just one more episode.’

The drowsiness started enveloping him progressively, yet he made no effort to acknowledge it - and neither did you.

‘Fine.’

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!!#kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo testuro #kuroo tetsurou x y/n #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsurō #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo tetsuro fluff

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izvmimi · 7 months ago

Text

cw: pop star!au. fem!reader with diva & tsun tendencies. sfw but suggestive. possibly may have more parts.

When you finally show up to the studio, having woken up hours past your expected alarm such that you had to skip your yoga and your poolside brunch, your assistant is not happy to see you in the least, and the rest of your camera crew is at least a little bit miffed.

And quite frankly, you don’t give a flying fuck.

You’re about forty-five minutes late, but the fact of the matter is that the main attraction is you, and only you, and as one of the top international pop stars of the decade, you have gotten a little too comfortable with letting your whims set the tone of things. The hustle and bustle of the set however starts up again the moment you walk in, as your head assistant claps her hands and lets the crew know to set up cameras, makeup and outfitting to get ready to put you in their chair and turn you magical.

You walk right up to her and give her a cheeky grin.

“Sorry, I overslept.”

Aya wishes she could throw you out of the nearest window but settles to say slap a script in a sheet of paper into your chest.

“This is the plan for the music video. Read this and don’t piss me off.”

You frown as you take it from her then scan through the crumpled piece quickly. Your newest music video is supposed to be a bit sexier than usual, with a pretty generic storyline - you play a damsel in distress saved by a dashing hero, the trope subverted by the fact that you’re a succubus, far from someone to be saved. You’re excited for it, having played a little bit too close to sweetheart territory for so long, and it’ll be your first time having an actual top Hero as your love interest, unlike your prior models who were more props than anything else.

But there’s one issue.

You crinkle your nose in distaste.

“You got Deku!?”

Aya raises her eyebrow adjusting thick rimmed glasses as she repositions her stance as though she’s preparing for a fight, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Is there a problem?”

You groan dramatically, then rush past her, pretending to be aggravated as you make your way towards the breakfast spread that has remained untouched until you arrived and stuff a dry croissant in your mouth.

“I asked for a hot Hero! Sexy! I ask you to do your goddamn job and you hire a man with green Teletubby energy!”

Somebody beside you scoffs, and as the two of you glance in the worker’s directions, he’s unable to stifle his laughter before he walks off, pushing a cart of cleaning supplies with him. You twist your mouth to the side, hands on hips, then turn your attention back to Aya.

“So you’re telling me Dynamight, Red Riot, and Shoto were unavailable?”

Aya’s lips press into a thin line. Despite being your assistant, she’s still one of your closest confidantes and she bites back just as hard as you can, and as usual, she does so now.

“I said, don’t piss me off, Tinkerbell. I’ll have you know I spent a lot of extra time making sure to-” she stops chewing you out suddenly, her eyes wide, and you blink, then turn.

Deku is standing right behind you, and you’re 100% certain he heard your exchange. If he’s upset, he doesn’t show it, instead he’s smiling sheepishly, his hand scratching the back of his neck.

“I think Kacchan was a bit busy and uh… Shoto probably wouldn’t have done this anyway, he’s not the type. As for Red Riot… that I’m not really sure...,” he trails off, pensive.

You blink at him rapidly as you crane your neck to look at him.

Pro Hero Deku is a lot taller than he looks on television. His face is still boyish and friendly, the harmless look not necessarily limited to television, but when you take a look at the rest of his countenance, broad shouldered and thick, it’s clear that there’s a reason why he’s topping the charts currently.

Even if his soft look doesn’t particularly scream sex appeal.

“Sorry you’re stuck with me.” He bows politely, hands pressed against the sides of his jeans. “Let’s work hard together!”

When he rises, he’s looking at you with hopeful anticipation, and the way his eyes practically glow with earnestness actually upsets you.

You open your mouth then close it. The diva persona of yours isn’t without an ounce of empathy, but he’s already getting on your nerves. You look at Aya who gives you the glare she does when she wants you to behave, but you’ve already stomped your foot and stormed away.

Frustrated and unsure why.

“I’ll be at my trailer, call me when we get started.”

—

The problem is that he’s hot, and you hate to be wrong.

The type of hot that makes your head spin when you’re too close, that makes you forget the words you’re supposed to be singing to him, that makes the fans that blow through your wig and flowing clothing not enough to manage the heat that runs through your body.

“Get closer!” the videographer screams behind the camera and you swallow thickly as Izuku moves first, crossing the already minimal distance between the two of you to wrap his arm around your waist and the other around your shoulders. It’s supposed to be a romantic, protective pose, and he’s not looking at you but at the camera, but he’s so close, he smells good, his clothes are dramatically torn, ripped in the way you’d expect after a tense battle but artificially so. Your heart thumps as if he were protecting you for real, and you hope he can’t sense it, the disarray that’s running from your center to your fingertips as you try desperately to figure out where to put your hands.

“___, can you please find a way to make this look more natural?” you’re being barked at by your greatest hater and favorite employee.

Aya, please shut the fuck up, you want to tell her, but Deku hasn’t let you go.

“Next take.”

Deku finally releases you and you let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. He’s smiling, the makeup dust and grime and blood barely marring his handsome features, in fact accentuating them.

They didn’t have to make him look this good. You’re going to have a talk with the visual designer, this is getting ridiculous.

“Sorry, was that okay?” He’s still smiling, bashful as if he’s the one who can’t stop looking at you, and imagining how his hands would feel pressed against your chest, when it’s very clearly the reverse. You wonder for a moment how easily he attracts the opposite sex with this sweet boy act, as if the plentiful scars on his broad chest, littered over his arms and likely below the pants hanging low on his waist, creeping past the Adonis belt aren’t evidence that perhaps he’s not so toothless after all.

You want to practically smack him, he frustrates you so damn much.

“Adequate,” you answer. The director tells you to take five and you step away quickly, practically falling off the fake set rubble on your way down.

You can’t even stumble the way you want to, because Hero Deku is fast and is holding onto your arm before you can make your way down.

“You okay?”

Unwittingly, you give him a distressed look, and he lets go quickly, and you storm off.

“I’ll be in my trailer!” you announce again, while the workers grumble that you’re supposed to literally only take five.

Aya is chuckling to herself this time, because she’s clocked you a mile away.

Tinkerbell has a crush.

#izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #daydreams: bnha #mimidoriya #mimi writes: pop star au

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lincolndjarin · 9 months ago

Text

fine art

javi gutierrez x moviestar!reader - installment #1 of sparrow's spectacles

main masterlist - other spectacles - kofi

summary : you were an up and coming actress, javi is your biggest fan, he'd do anything to have meet you.

word count : 3.9k

warnings, tags : dead dove do not eat, !! dark fic !! mdni 18+, noncon, stalker!javi, kidnapping, capture, stockholm syndrome, m&f masturbation, sex toys, briefly mentioned periods, exhibitionism, voyurism, so much internal thought processing regarding readers situation, briefly referenced suicide, reader is undescribed other than briefly being mentioned as young in her acting career, in my head she's late twenties, probs other tags i missed sorry. tldr: you have spent so much time with javi against your will that you unwillingly start fantasizing about him and give in to destructive urges in an attempt to escape him, everything is bad here.

a/n : is this stupid and probably bad? who knows, i have a terrible sense of self judgement lately so i'm just gonna post this and hope it's good. also can you tell that i blatantly stole the set from You LMAO. anyhow this is the first installment of my little 'horror' series. but it's less horror and more just odd little stories i wanted to write tbh

Desk, bed, lamp, television, door, chair.

On days where you’re feeling particularly bored you list the things you can see. Unfortunately for you, your surroundings rarely change. Of course you could change that, if you asked him for something he’d give it to you, anything you wanted. Unless of course it was something he thought you could hurt yourself with or contact the outside world with.

You didn’t often ask.

Whenever you can have a conversation with him he always says the same thing.

“If you stopped being so stubborn you might actually be happy.”

“I would do anything for you.” “Then let me out.” “Anything but that.”

“It’s not as terrible as you make it out to be. It isn’t an actual cage, it isn’t so bad.”

So you don’t talk to him unless you have to.

But some days you’re just so painfully, agonizingly, bored and you can’t help yourself. So you scream at him, or you pound on the unyielding plexiglass, or you hold your hand up against it, hoping he’ll touch the other side and you can briefly imagine yourself having physical contact with another human being.

Sometimes you’ll even play his games.

You’ll read the scripts he slides through the small square opening in the cage that can’t be more than a foot wide, and act out scenes with him simply because it gives you something to do and for fucks sake you’re desperate for something to do. It’s so easy to get caught up in him, if it wasn’t so easy you’d probably let yourself do it more often, thankfully, it’s so fucking scary. If you spend too much time in the box you’re worried that eventually you’ll forget that you aren’t a doll and you'll grow to like your box. So you do your damndest to maintain a wall between the two of you, but when that wall is glass it is destined to break eventually. So you scream and you fight until you get tired, and then you let the walls down as you rest, before returning to your struggle. And everytime you let the walls down they take longer to put back up.

At the end of the day it never matters how you treat him, he loves you all the same.

Even on days where you scream your throat raw and throw your furniture against the walls, if you ask him to get you takeout from your favorite restaurant, or watch a movie with you, he always will. You asked him about it once. Why didn't he just make you do what he wanted? Why didn’t he just make you obey? He had looked genuinely offended, as if he couldn’t believe you thought him capable of such a thing.

And he told you that he loved you.

More than anything.

That you were his most prized possession.

That he would never do anything to hurt you, it would be like if he were angry and he threw a priceless vase, the only person it would hurt is himself.

You had nodded as if he was making any sense and you’d turned back to the movie he’d picked out.

You were a vase.

You were a collectible.

A priceless, collectable. He kept you in perfect condition and never took you out of the box. Not even to play with you himself. A small, rather demented part of you, is starting to wish that he would. Of course you don’t want him to force himself upon you, you aren’t that far gone. (Yet.) But it’s been so long since you’ve touched another person. You would give your left arm just to be held. If your calendar serves you well, it’s been just over two years since you last saw someone who wasn’t Javi.

And Javi wouldn’t touch you.

Not ever. You were too perfect to be defiled in such a way. He would sometimes hold his hand against the glass when you held up your own, he even kissed you through it once. (Although it had been rather awkward and neither one of you ever talked about it again.) But he never touched you.

Sometimes you can’t help but wonder what would have happened if you’d met Javi in a social setting. He is rather handsome, and though you hate to admit it, when he isn’t leering he’s almost charming.

Almost.

Everyday you slip further into the fantasy where Javi does something to break up the monotony. Is that his goal? To make you so desperate for human connection that you eventually snap and beg him to touch you? You shudder as you wonder how long that would take. After the first year you stopped wondering what would happen when he got bored of you. You know deep down that that will never happen. If anything his devotion for you only continues to grow with each passing day. If it’s possible he probably loves you more now then he did at the start of your stay here. Despite everything he takes care of you, in his own strange sort of way.

Like how he tracks your cycle, always making sure you have anything you need on those days. Sometimes he even knows it’s starting before you do, he’ll bring you baskets with blankets and candy and any other little trinket or gift he saw that made him think of you.

Jewelry, little plush toys, and books. Anything to try and make you feel anything other than the misery that constantly loomed over you as you waited for his next visit. He never goes more than a few days without seeing you and he always apologizes when he does. He returns with your favorite shampoo or lotion to make it up to you, but it never really changes how you feel about him. It’s nice to fantasize a world in which you enjoy your only source of company but you’re careful to never let that fantasy bleed into reality.

If he were actually your partner you’d have locked him down ages ago. A part of you knows that he doesn’t want that kind of relationship with you though. He doesn’t want a girlfriend, you’re much more than that. You’re more like a goddess in a cage to him than an actual human being. A beloved pet bird. It’s clear he feels something more than simple love for you. It’s a devotion, a conscious effort to worship you.

You are to be kept in pristine condition.

Of course that doesn’t mean he can’t look.

Two and a half years.

That’s how long it took for the looking to escalate into something more. You were watching a movie.

50 First Dates

You had picked it out, Javi liked action movies but would never complain when you wanted to watch a rom-com. You were on your bed, curled up under the blankets in a hoodie and sweatpants. You haven’t worn makeup since he took you, you rarely brushed your hair, you never put much thought into your appearance, and Javi wouldn’t give you a mirror.

You had one, a long time ago. Within the first week you’d smashed it, threatening to slit your own throat if he didn’t let you out. All that resulted in was you no longer being allowed to have breakables. Plastic cutlery and paper plates were wordlessly passed to you from that point forward.

You had been watching in silence, he sat on the couch outside the cage like he always did and it wasn’t until you heard a shuddering groan that you turned around to see him kneeling beside the cage, one hand pressed up against the glass, steadying himself, the other wrapped around his cock.

You were frozen in place.

What are you supposed to do in that situation?

You watched, slack jawed as he took his time. His gaze made you feel naked, like he could see through the layers of blankets and baggy clothing.

He had looked you in the eye when he finished. Briefly staring wide eyed before his eyes squeezed shut and with a long, drawn out moan and a strained cry of your name. His cum painted the glass and before you could form any sort of response he was already stuffing himself back into his pants and standing. You want to say something, anything. Something to hold him accountable for what he just did, but you can’t think of anything, and he’s already leaving.

Before you can even blink he’s gone, without so much as a glance in your direction. And you’re left alone, in the lamp light, unable to escape the sight of his filth on the glass. Covering your head with a blanket as you waited for it to be late enough for the power to cut out and leave you in a safe, and comfortable darkness.

A part of you hoped that the white speckles would be gone when you woke up but you weren’t that lucky.

You faced away from that wall, with your head buried in a book until you looked at the clock and knew it was almost time to face him again. When he returned he had an aura of shame around himself, his arms were full of grocery bags and his eyes were red rimmed and teary.

“I’m so sorry- I just- I love you so much, I don’t know what came over me.” If this was a normal relationship and the two of you had maybe gotten into an argument or something you would have forgiven him. After all he looked genuinely remorseful as he stared at you, going through the bags before setting down several takeout containers with labels you recognized. He had gone out and gotten all your favorites. Your favorite fast food place, as well as a high end chinese restaurant you loved for special occasions, and a clear plastic case with a slice of your favorite flavored cake from a small bakery near your apartment that you frequented. (You’d never asked him to get you anything from there before, you’d never even mentioned the place to him.)

Through his mumbled apologies he set down your favorite bubble tea flavor and a water bottle.

He had passed everything to you through the opening in the cage with trembling hands as he sniffled. Once you had everything he sprayed the drying remnants of his release with Windex, pulling several paper towels off the roll and wiping it until it was as if it never happened. By the time he was finished his cheeks were red and big tears rolled down his face.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Before you can stop yourself you’re comforting him, as if he’s the victim in this situation.

“It’s not okay, I don’t want you to think that that’s why you’re here.” He mumbles sadly, letting his forehead hit the glass. Through your disgust for your own words you sense something else.

Opportunity.

The only chance you’re going to get for escape involves him unlocking the door. Something he hasn’t done since he put you in here in the first place. You’ve tried in the past. Not often, there weren’t very many chances, you had everything you needed here, running water and a bathroom, any other sustenance was provided by him through the little opening. There was so rarely an opportunity, and when there were he always anticipated your plans before you got to put them into motion. But you’ve never tried deception. You think you would have, considering you’re an actress but it had never crossed your mind until just now. You can’t half ass this though. If you decide to do this you will get one chance to do it right.

Go big or go home.

“No really, it’s okay. It’s sort of… flattering.” His face drops the second you say it and regret starts creeping in. You’re going to die here. He’s going to keep you here until the day you die and no one will ever know what happened to you. A young starlight, taken out in her prime.

“It’s not, it’s disgusting.” He tosses the paper towels away, sniffling to himself as he stands with his hands clasped in front of him, swaying anxiously back and forth. You take a seat on your bed across from him, fighting the urge to put your hand on the glass. You don’t want to lay it on too thick, he’ll see right through that.

“It’s fine, it’s- it’s natural.” You’re struggling to find the right words that make it feel real. At one point you were a rather talented actress but you’re out of practice. “Seriously. Especially from you. It’s really sweet.” Fuck, are you doing too much?

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he chews his lip as he stares at you, you can tell he’s skeptical. He should be. You so rarely speak to him and when you do it’s never to be kind.

“Actions speak louder than words.”

Someone said that in a movie Javi picked, you had sat and let him read the scene to you afterwards.

He wants an actress, you can give him that. You can perform, as long as that’s all it is. If it’s a performance you can keep your wall up. You stumble off the bed, your legs feeling like jelly as you pull open the drawer on your nightstand.

This plan feels stupider by the minute but you need to commit.

He didn’t gift you sex toys the way he did with other little things to make you happier. But they were always just sort of there. In their original packaging, shoved in your nightstand drawer with a few batteries he’d left as well, they’d been here when you woke up in the cage. You doubt you’ll be able to relax enough to do this without a little help, and you have to be convincing. If you aren’t believable he’s unlikely to trust you in the future. If you fuck this up now you’ll never get another chance.

It’s a pale pink rabbit. You’d probably never buy something like it for yourself, it looks… expensive. The silicone is smooth against your fingers as you rip open the packaging, twisting the base open to pop in two batteries. Rushing in an attempt to not lose your nerve. When you gather your courage you risk a glance up at him, just fast enough to watch his tongue dart out and wet his lips.

So he does want this.

Good.

Pressing the button on the toy makes it buzz to life.

Okay.

This isn’t so bad. It’s just masturbating, if you do this for him you can take advantage of the obvious attraction he has for you. Even if it doesn’t work immediately, eventually this ends with him letting you out, or at the very least letting himself in, which is all you need.

So you get back into bed, and you lean on a stack of pillows before really focusing on him.

And you ask him the question he didn’t bother to ask you.

“Is this okay?” You hope the trembling in your voice comes off as endearing.

His throat bobs as he nods. Maybe he doesn’t mind that you’ve been laying it on a little thick. Maybe you’ve denied him your affections for so long that he doesn’t want to risk rejecting any advance from you. No matter how out of the blue it seems/.

You push your sweats down to your ankles before kicking them off the bed. No time for embarrassment or regret now, if he senses hesitation none of this will be worth it. He’s moved to be sitting on the couch directly outside the cage now. His knees pressed together as he sits with his hands in his lap, looking almost comically polite.

No sense putting off the inevitable.

It’s been a while, there’s a camera in the corner of the cage so you don’t masturbate often, and when you do it’s late at night, once the lights are off and you can hide under your blanket. You can’t do that now though, that would defeat the purpose.

You leave the toy off as you shove it down the front of your panties. Pressing the soft head of it against your slit, finding it surprisingly easy to tease your entrance with it.

Are you wet?

It’s been a while, that’s why.

Javi certainly hasn’t wasted any time. If he were sitting any closer he’d be fogging up the glass, his hand is shoved down his pants, his face already flushed red. His usual rigid posture is lost as he leans back into the couch cushions, refusing to tear his eyes off of you. Pulling your bottom lip between your teeth you push the toy into you, holding back a gasp as you swallow. At least it feels sort of good. Good enough to make you wish you’d swallowed your pride and used this before today.

Your body moves instinctually as your free hand reaches forward to push your panties down and turn the vibe on in one motion, the silicone attachment pressing against your clit as you press the toy deeper into your pussy. It’s a little too easy to relax suddenly. Javi now slowly strokes himself, his cock in his hand, looking painfully hard as he squeezes the base of his shaft, almost as if he’s scared of blowing his load too soon.

Good.

The less time it takes the better.

At least that’s what you tell yourself as you angle the toy, letting the tip of it brush against your g-spot and drawing an authentic moan from you. Fighting the urge to cover your mouth in surprise, you repeat the motion. The combination of sensations making your toes curl and your back arch into the mattress.

“Fuck-” Your voice catches in your throat, your fingers twitch against the button to turn the vibrations up a level.

Once you find your rhythm it’s easy to forget about the nerves and what’s at stake. It’s easy to get lost in the sensation and the sight of Javi shuddering as he gasps. It’s easy to focus on the attractive parts of him for a brief moment, to make things easier. And it’s easy to wonder if his cock would feel better than the toy that hums and makes your body tense up deliciously.

It’s actually terrifying how easy it is.

It’s enough to make you horrified for just a split second. He wasn’t lying when he said you could be happy if you stopped fighting. Twisted into the pleasure you’re feeling is something else. Relief. Relief for the peace you find when you stop fighting him. You could feel this good all the time if you wanted, you and Javi could have your favorite food for dinner, you could watch your favorite movies, and act out your favorite scenes.

You could feel good.

You could have nights like these where you watch him jerk off his pretty, thick cock and know that someone loves you enough to take care of you like this. You could let him buy you pretty things and toys that make you feel so so so good.

And that thought terrifies you.

If you stayed in this cage you would eventually become entirely complacent.

It might not be tomorrow, or next week, or next year, but eventually.

You will be happy to flutter about your cage once you’ve forgotten how to fly.

His pretty little bird.

It’s your orgasm that snaps you out of that living nightmare. You hadn’t even realized you’d still been fucking the toy, pleasuring yourself to that little daydream. This wasn’t a good idea and you shouldn’t have done it but it’s too late for that now especially when you’re groaning out his name as you remove the still buzzing toy, now slick with your wetness. Javi’s eyes are wide as he clearly can’t hold back any longer as he dirties his shirt and pants with his own release.

As you quickly reach for the toy, turning it off, you pull your panties up in a hurry. Maybe you should push your luck and ask him to come into the cage now. A sense of dread is settling in your stomach as you realize that you can’t be here much longer, who knows how quickly you’ll crumble if you keep letting yourself do this. It’s best to make this a swift process where you don’t have any more time to sink into the hell that is acceptance of these four glass walls.

You’re about to do it. About to tell him that he should join you, that it would feel better for the both of you if he was in the cage as well but you don’t get a chance to as he zips his pants back up.

“Go to bed, when you’re asleep I’m gonna leave you a gift.” He stands abruptly, giving you a reassuring smile before pressing his hand up to the glass. You don’t hesitate to crawl up the length of the bed and press your own to his, it’s brief but you can feel the connection here.

This is just the beginning.

After today you’ll put more effort in. You’ll make it happen and you’ll make it happen fast. You can put the time and effort in, it’s not like you have anything better to do. You’ll convince him that it’s real before you lose yourself entirely and when the day finally comes where he opens the door you won’t waste the opportunity.

You’ll leave your room.

You can figure out the logistics of it later but for now you take the sleeping pill he slides through the opening every night he visits. You don’t usually take it but you need sleep and this will be easier if he thinks you’re compliant. With a sip of your drink the little pill goes down and your eyes close.

And you dream that you’re a bird, flying through a blue sky.

You sleep better than you ever have before in the cage.

Until you wake, the lamp being on is the only indicator you have that it’s daytime. Your hair stands on end as you sit up. He was here. Things have been moved, little things, noticeable things. Your empty drink is tossed in the bin and it smells of cleaning supplies. He doesn’t ever come inside the cage, that goes against everything he tells you. Your head is spinning as you try to figure out what’s different. How long were you out? The pills have never made you feel this fuzzy before on the rare occasions that you’ve taken them, you do your best to focus but it’s difficult when everything’s so muddled. So you do the one thing you know will clear your head and you list the things you see.

Desk, bed, lamp, television, chair.

Something’s wrong, different.

He said he was going to give you a gift. What the fuck did he do? Did he leave it in here? Was it too big to fit through the opening? Is that why he came into the cage?

You don’t catch it immediately, but there is a note taped to the inside of the glass.

I knew you’d learn to be happy : )

See you tonight.

Love, Javi

You look back around the room, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Desk, bed, lamp, television, chair.

Oh.

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hauntedhokage · 6 months ago

Text

it would've been sweet

Past!Sae Itoshi/F!Reader, Oliver Aiku/F!Reader

word count: 12.8k (fuck, i’m so sorry)

summary: You would never come before soccer.

But you let yourself pretend that he was spending time with you because wanted to, not just because you were around and he was bored.

warnings: angst, unrequited love, unprotected sex, sae is terrible at feelings, rin is better but still bad

note: this is not a love triangle fic. kinda jumps around from “present day” which is about 3-4 years after where we currently are in the manga, right after Sae leaves for Spain, to the start of the manga when the blue lock program started. I tried to make it obvious where time settings changed without labeling but i know it’s different perspective wise since i literally wrote it. This is also based on my own personal canon that Rin softens up a bit as he gets older and that he and Sae never make up.

[ao3][ko-fi]

“What do you think?” The question has you looking up from the mirror to where your boyfriend stands, dressed up and clean shaven, which has you tilting your head. “Is it bad? I tried to match your dress, and-“

“No, baby, it looks great! Just don’t recognize you when you don’t look scruffy.”

“The rugged look gets all the ladies,” he comments, coming closer to place a gentle kiss to your forehead as you sigh. “I know you hate these things, but I appreciate you going so we can suffer together.”

“Yeah yeah,” you mumble playfully, earning yourself a kiss. “You just like seeing me dressed up.”

“That’s just a bonus. You look just as beautiful when you just wake up, wearing my jersey, or naked, or-“

“Alright, lover boy. We’re going to make the car wait too long.” Your scolding has him helping you to your feet, mindful of the heels you had on as he guides you out of the bedroom of the hotel suite. It was going to be a long night of talking to soccer players, soccer executives, and their guests about soccer - your least favorite thing to talk about in detail.

You honestly hate soccer.

It was the source of heartbreak, your first and only, and you let the stupid sport continue to contribute to your emotional pain. Maybe you’re a masochist; continuing to surround yourself with the sport despite loathing it entirely, dating a man who played professionally, and wanted you at all of the events he could get you to.

Supporting your best friend as he traversed professional soccer while hating what it had done to both of you. What it did to his brother to cause both of you the worst emotional pain of your lives.

There are times when you think about Itoshi Sae, mostly when he comes across your television before you change the channel. He was once your best friend, with a chance that there could’ve been more had he not gone to Spain. But you’d never come before his soccer career and, at thirteen years old you couldn’t dream of asking him to stay. Not for you. All of Japan would have crucified you for trying to hold their treasure back from the greatness that came with the world stage.

But that didn’t stop you from wishing things could’ve been like they were before. When you were both happy and he actually seemed like he enjoyed soccer and you enjoyed watching him. Back when he had appreciated you and your support, back before he went to Spain all those years ago.

Time passes, though. He made his choices, destroyed his relationship with both you and his younger brother like it was nothing to him. Switched to midfield, changed his dreams, acted like you meant nothing to him. He was still revered on the international stage, still loved by Japan, and deep down perhaps you still loved him too. But that wasn’t something you had time to think about, you had a life to worry about.

He certainly wasn’t thinking about you, why put energy into thinking about him?

It was easier to just say that you hated soccer, even though both you and Rin knew what that statement actually meant: you hated Itoshi Sae.

You knew you’d never come before soccer, but still you felt special that Sae would make time for you between his busy soccer schedule. Granted most of that time was spent in school or just a half an hour before or after school, but it was still time he made to spend with you , specifically. He didn’t talk to just anyone, but he talked to you. A perk of being his neighbor since you were five, you supposed.

Recovery days from the strict training regimen spent either at his house or yours, meant to be studying for exams but instead taking turns watching videos on your phones. His were always related to soccer, insane hat tricks and compilations of the best strikers, while yours tended to be more on the funnier side or were cake decorating videos since he found those to be relaxing.

You were at every match, cheering him and his brother on as they dominated the pitch and wishing the best for their careers. They loved soccer and loved playing together, Sae always telling you in private that he did see a future for himself and Rin in soccer at the national level. Playing for Japan as the best strikers in the world, exchanging passes until they got to the World Cup - hopefully Japan’s first so they could mark a huge claim in the history of Japanese soccer with one of them scoring the winning goal based on a pass from the other.

Sae meant the world to you, but you always knew that you’d never come before soccer. But you wouldn’t want to, he deserved to chase his dream and you wanted to support him through that as you trusted he’d support you in yours. That’s what friends did.

You loved Sae, and you felt deep down that he loved you too. But you’d never come before soccer. Especially not when he was recruited. Just thirteen years old, not even in high school yet, and he was going off to Spain. Japan’s Treasure, your treasure , and he was leaving you to go pursue his dream. As he should, and you don’t feel bad about it.

After all, you knew you would never come before soccer.

You didn’t go to high school alone, you had friends outside of Sae to hang out with, but you still felt so lonely. To go from talking to him every day, watching him play and practice with his brother, to just…nothing? It sucked. You still go to support Rin, watching his matches at the very least and tutoring him when he swallowed his pride and asked , but life without Sae felt empty and you hated it.

“Have you heard from him?” You ask after a few months of radio silence from the elder Itoshi brother, and your heart drops when Rin shakes his head. “Oh, I guess he’s really busy then. I know he has to learn Spanish too, on top of practicing.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he’s just busy. He’ll call when he gets time.” Was all Rin could say, and you give your own nod of agreement before pointing out that he forgot to carry the four. “Wasn’t thinking.”

“You never do,” you tease, ruffling his hair and earning a startled “hey!” from the younger brother. “Always thinking about when you can go kick the ball around next, when you should be thinking about these entrance exams.”

“I know I’ll get the minimum score required to get into my school of choice. Soccer will carry me the rest of the way and then I won’t even need to worry about graduating.”

Always following in his brother’s footsteps, Rin was chasing his own dream that he shared with Sae. His optimism was inspiring and infectious, bringing a grin to your face before you redirect him to the practice questions you’d provided. For a kid so talented at catching the right angles to kick the ball and score, he sucked at geometry. Maybe he was better suited for physics.

Rin joining you at the high school was nice, you felt better knowing that he wasn’t starting school alone, even if he was just as lonely as you were without his brother around. Sae was irreplaceable to both of you, and yet neither of you had heard a word from him - not even a text at Christmas or either of your birthdays. He’d been gone for about four years, and you still waited for him when you should’ve given up. Any sane person would’ve given up, but you still had a deep love for Sae. Whether that was as your friend or if you had genuine feelings for him, you’d never figured it out before he left, but you hoped distance truly made the heart grow fonder and he’d do something about the fact that he’d cut you and his brother off completely.

And then you get the news you were waiting for.

“He’s coming back soon,” Rin comments as you eat lunch together, on a bench under a tree where you always ate together. “Something to do with his passport is what my mom said, but he’ll be back in about a month.”

“I’m sure you’re excited to see him again,” you comment, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach at the thought of seeing him again. Sae coming home was huge, and you couldn’t wait to hear about what he’d gotten up to while in Spain. You’d watched almost every single one of his matches, even bought a jersey to wear while you watched him play. A long distance good luck charm is what you’d sent to him when it was delivered - a text that got no response from your best friend.

The snow was falling when Itoshi Sae was meant to return. Out of respect for the family that missed the eldest son, you don’t stop by their home for a few days. When you saw Rin at school he was visibly upset, more closed off than he’d been just a week ago when he was practically vibrating with excitement at seeing his brother again.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask after school, watching as he adjusts his gym bag on his shoulder while you put your shoes back on. “You’re clearly upset, Rin.”

“He gave up on our dream. That’s all there is to it.”

You don’t believe that, but you know better than to pry into Rin’s feelings. The fact that he said anything was enough, especially as it related to his relationship with Sae. It was just unfortunate that the brothers who were once so close now had an entire ocean between them, both physically and in their relationship, courtesy of Sae.

‘Sae is in town again. My mom said he asked about you.’

It wasn’t unusual to get a text from Rin, Sae’s intent to put distance between him and anybody who might’ve loved him had brought you closer to the younger Itoshi brother and maintained that relationship even as he went pro. It was now Rin’s jerseys that you collected and wore as good luck charms, anything with Sae’s name tucked away in a box so you wouldn’t have to look at it since you couldn’t bring yourself to throw them away. Even the stupid notes you’d pass back and forth with him in school - you’d kept everything.

‘Respectfully, I do not care’

‘You do though. I’m not stupid.’

‘You are, I remember tutoring you dummy’

That gets a thumbs down reaction from Rin, and you sigh when your phone lights up with Rin’s name and picture. He couldn’t leave well enough alone, it seemed. Neither could you, most days.

“Rin, please let me pretend to not care,” you request before he can even attempt a pleasantry. You know why he was calling, and you didn’t want to bring up the feelings you were trying not to deal with. “I ask for very little of you aside from a discount on your merchandise and for you to tell your teammates I said hi and am currently single.”

“You’re fucking annoying, y’know that?”

“You tell me every day. Now what do you want, I’ve got exams to study for.”

“I’m also in town at my mom’s request. It’d be nice to see you.” There was another shoe that hadn’t yet dropped, you knew there was always another shoe when Rin was around. He didn’t like that being his reputation with you, but there was nothing he could do about it when he was…the way he was. Much better than when he was a teen, though, but still awful. “My mom said that Sae was also going to try to get a hold of you. But I wish he wouldn’t.”

There it was, the other shoe.

“What happened to not giving a fuck about what he did?”

“You’re still not over him. Seeing him isn’t going to make that any better, no matter how hard you try to ignore it, and I don’t want him to hurt you.”

“Rin, it’s been like eight years, give me a little credit please? I don’t want to see him, so I won’t.” It should be that simple, Sae didn’t know where you lived, so he couldn’t hunt you down. You’re sure his mom might’ve told him where you were going to school and what you were studying, you always caught up at Rin’s big matches and when you were closer to home for the holidays. She always treated you well, and your continued closeness with Rin made her feel better about how her youngest son was doing emotionally. You were like her bonus daughter, Rin’s older sister figure, a member of the Itoshi family complete with Christmas gifts and calls on your birthday, which was fine since Sae was never home for those events anyway.

“But you’ll see me?”

“You’re buying lunch, Rinnie. Or maybe a nice dinner? Haven’t decided.” But you know how it’ll turn out. Rin sitting on the floor against your couch with some horror movie playing as he betrayed his diet for once with sodium rich takeout that he’d complain about eating in the morning. Rin was predictable, unlike his brother who had always surprised you.

You never told Rin that Sae had texted you on your last birthday. Wishing you another healthy year, standard greeting for a birthday. You agonized over it for six hours before finally deleting it so you wouldn’t have to look at it again, knowing that responding would open a door you didn’t think you wanted to go through. Maybe he got the memo, but you’re not sure that Sae ever got the memo despite how smart he was.

“You’re a brat. But I wanted to make sure you weren’t crying because his name came up.” He knows you too well and you hate it, but you do appreciate that he cares in his own rude way.

“You’re such a jerk. I’ll see you when?”

“Tomorrow, unless you’re busy.”

“Tomorrow is fine. I’ve got class but that’s in the morning.”

“See you at noon. I’ll pick you up.” And then he hangs up on you, never bothering for pleasantries like saying “goodbye”. Those few seconds are extra time he could spend in the day working on his dribbling, or something stupid like that.

But unfortunately he’s right, the mention of Sae bothering to ask about you - having the nerve to want to see you - after almost ten years of silence was incredibly frustrating to the point where you can’t stop the tears from welling up or the dam from breaking so your tears could flow freely. Your notes were ruined, teardrops making the ink bleed on the paper which would make you need to redo the page.

In another universe, the one where at some point he chose you , he’d be right there studying with you. You wouldn’t be crying over him again, you’d be at the very least happier. He’d be teasing you in his own dry way for putting off your studying, and for teasing his brother so much. You think that you’d be having much more fun in that world where Sae was with you and not married to a soccer ball. Maybe he would’ve married you instead?

But he’d never choose you over soccer. He’d never be the one who chose you over the pitch, that just wasn’t Itoshi Sae. Trying to think of a world where he put you first was stupid and a waste of your time. You had exams to study for.

You tried to avoid him while he was back after what he’d said to Rin. Renewing his passport is what his mother said, and you understood that to be a somewhat lengthy process so you knew he’d be around for a while. At least a week or two, maybe longer depending on his paperwork.

But in all your effort to avoid him, you end up running right into him on your way home from a mall trip with your friends. Rin wasn’t around, he’d gone off to some soccer camp, leaving you to do things with other people and without him tagging along in the back so you wouldn’t have to walk home alone.

If Rin had been there, you’re sure he would’ve clocked Sae and directed you down a different street. But Rin wasn’t there, and you’re face-to-face with Itoshi Sae while snow falls between you. It was cold, about as cold as his eyes when they met yours, and you want nothing more than to go home but you’re sure it’s not going to be that easy. Sae was never easy to deal with, even when you were friends.

“Hey.”

“That’s it?” you ask, rolling your eyes when he shrugs. “You’re gone for four years with no contact and all you have to say is ‘hey’?”

His expression doesn’t change, and you feel yourself only getting more frustrated at that. It shouldn’t be new to you, he’d always been on the drier side, but given the history that he chose to write - the chasm he’d put between you - you can’t help but be mad.

“You still cry when you’re upset. That’s a habit you should try to break.”

“You do not have the right to say anything to me about what I should or shouldn’t do, not after what you did.” That gets at least a change in expression, a glimpse of an emotion crossing his features as you adjust your gloves. But as soon as it’s there, it’s gone. He was always very good at masking his feelings.

“You act like there was an obligation to keep in touch.”

“That’s a joke, right? We had been friends since we were five and you say there was no obligation to stay in touch ? I knew and understood that soccer was always your priority, but you could’ve at least sent a text . If you didn’t want me in your life anymore, all you had to do was say so and I wouldn’t have spent four years worrying about you.” Your voice gets softer as you speak, your eyes no longer able to meet his as you feel the geyser of emotion start to bubble up in your chest. “But you made it crystal clear, so I won’t waste any more of your time. I have to get home.”

“Let me walk you.”

“I’d rather walk into traffic,” you retort, stepping around him so you can continue on your way home. “You don’t get to pretend to care just because you’re back in town. You’ll leave as soon as you can, I’m sure. You clearly were happier when you didn’t have to see me every day.”

“You’re impossible.”

“That’s rich, coming from you.”

“Can you stop for a minute?” The request actually makes you stop, but you don’t turn to look at him. You can’t, not when you’ve been crying because he sucks as a human being. “I wanted to see you, when I didn’t have to.”

“You also hurt your brother when you didn’t have to . Did you come all the way back for that?”

“What happened between Rin and I is none of your business.”

“Then what happened in Spain that you came back like this? This isn’t you , Sae!” You have to look at him now, need him to see just what he’d done to you. Before he left he hated it when you cried, even if it was at a movie, but now he looks unfazed at the tears streaming down your face. Who was he now? Just some soccer machine? “I want my friend back.”

The conversation ends when Sae closes the distance between you. The kiss is harsh, needy, but exposed a truth in both of your actions and that truth was in experience. You both had been kissing other people, and you’re not sure how to feel about Sae trying to date. Hypocritical for sure, but could you be blamed?

“That doesn’t fix anything ,” you murmur when he pulls away, and he only sighs as he comments on how frustrating you were. “And I don’t forgive you for hurting Rin. I won’t ever forgive that.”

“It’s still none of your business.”

“Just fucking walk me home.” At this point it’s best to give him what he wanted. Arguing with Sae wasn’t easy when you were kids, and it’s obvious that he’d become more difficult while he was away.

You never told Rin that Sae kissed you that night.

Rin had left for Blue Lock at that point, telling you that his new goal was to destroy Sae and you’d only nodded as you wished him luck. At that point you only understood it to be a potential recruiting session, with the expectation that he’d be back in a couple weeks.

Instead he was gone for months, and you saw a lot of the elder Itoshi brother in the younger’s absence. You never told Rin about that either.

Quiet evenings with Sae watching you study for classes he’d never have to take, his own book in his hands and letting you sit in slightly uncomfortable silence. You don’t ask about Spain, you don’t talk about soccer in general because you hate that he used his experience with soccer in Spain to hurt his brother. But it “wasn’t your place” to intervene in their sibling quarrel, so you leave it all alone. You tell yourself that you don’t care, but the way you care for Rin tells you that you needed to in order to protect him since he was like a younger brother to you. Even if you were trying to protect him from his older brother.

You let Sae spend time with you, you let him take you to dinner and make tea for you, you ignore your parents' questions about why he was around after you’d spent so many nights crying over him. You didn’t know, but you knew that he’d hold your hand sometimes while you ate in private and always left you with a kiss on the cheek on your doorstep. Sometimes you exchange kisses that escalated into heavy makeout sessions on your bedroom floor, and other times you sit in silence while you work at your desk and he stretches on your floor.

It was everything you had wanted from Sae, but you knew that you were simply a placeholder and nothing more. He was only around to see what the Blue Lock Program could produce, to see if a half decent striker could rise up to represent Japan and make their soccer decent for once. Once his curiosity was satisfied or disappointed, he’d leave again since his passport had been renewed. You were just a way for him to pass the time while he waited for something interesting to happen.

You would never come before soccer.

But you let yourself pretend that he was spending time with you because wanted to, not just because you were around and he was bored. What hurt you more was the fact that you were okay with his selfishness, because it meant spending time with him almost as if he’d never left. It meant for some purpose he wanted to be with you .

Until he didn’t want that.

You never told anyone how Sae told you after the loss in the match against the Blue Lock Eleven that your relationship to Rin was holding his brother back. How Rin would never rise to meet his own goals when you were tying him down to you. How Sae himself knew you would hold him back and that he’d be going back to Europe to play for a decent team. The words you’d always feared he would say cut so deeply after the months you’d spent at each other’s sides, and that’s when it truly has set in that you were a convenience to Sae - someone he knew would always take him back despite the pain he caused you - someone he could use and throw away as he pleased.

Rin never knew what Sae had told you while he was in Japan last, and it was for the best. Rin had felt defeated after that match, hearing that Sae was more interested in Isagi than his own brother who was working so hard to exceed his brother’s level of talent. Knowing that Sae had stomped all over your heart would only make Rin more homicidal in his play style, and he needed a break from additional emotional issues.

And four years later you find yourself laying on your couch with Rin sitting on the floor in front of you, takeout container in his hand while you play with his hair. He’d doze off on the floor soon, the food coma kicking in and you’d finally look at your phone where a text from Sae sat waiting for a response. He’d sent it the night before, asking if he could see you while he was around. You think about what it would be like to have both brothers on the same page again, to have Sae spending time with you consistently, to be happy with them both in your life.

But you know deep down that soccer would always come first to Sae. You can’t forget or forgive what he’d said to you four years ago, but maybe he’d actually apologize for how he’d treated you if you saw him? But was it even with seeing him if that wasn’t a guarantee? There wasn’t even a guarantee that it’d be a pleasant meeting, Sae just sucked like that.

“You’re thinking too much,” Rin comments, tilting his head back against the couch cushion so he could look at you. “Oh, that’s the Sae face.”

“I do not have a ‘Sae face’.” Your retort is met with the familiar deadpan stare you often got from Rin when he thought your argument was stupid. He only sighs in return, and you try to adjust your expression to be less like whatever it was previously. “What does that even mean?”

“You look like someone kicked your dog, to start. You’re also crying.”

You were? Rin reaching up to wipe them away had you embarrassed, mumbling about allergies even though you both know that was a lie to save face when you didn’t need to do that for Rin. Sae had him just as fucked up as you, the last time they met on the pitch resulting in a heated exchange that made worldwide sports headlines for weeks. You’re surprised Rin didn’t risk a red card to play more aggressively against his older brother, but the yellow card he did get was worn like a badge of honor when you scolded him for it later.

“I’m sorry Rin. He texted me, is all, and I don’t know that I want to see him. Last time I saw him, it didn’t end well.”

“Does it ever end well with him?”

“No,” you mumble, letting him sit you up so he could get on the couch with you. It’s not long before you’re laying on him, head on his shoulder as he reminds you that you don’t need to see Sae and definitely don’t need him in your life. You were about to get your degree, and a job out of it too based on the internship you’d finished, and you did it all without Sae. Neither a of you needed Sae, and you both understood the universal truth: Sae would always choose soccer first. Before his brother and certainly before you. Putting effort in when you know it won’t be reciprocated was for fools.

“Seeing him might give you closure, but you need to figure out when you’ll stop running back to him and giving him that power over you.”

“You’re annoying when you’re right.”

“I’m only saying that he only does this to you and I’m getting sick of it. You can make your own decisions, but I don’t like seeing you cry over him. We’ve done too much of that.”

You had, and Rin truly was annoying when he was right but you know you’re lucky to have him - someone who knew exactly what it felt like to be pushed aside and put down by Itoshi Sae. By someone who once cared so much and wanted to see you succeed, then flipped the switch and became the biggest asshole you’d ever met. What you’d do without Rin, you weren’t sure.

“Thanks for putting up with me all this time,” you whisper, tears welling up again but this time because you’re so grateful for him. He’ll hate it when he realizes you’re crying again, but you think this time he’ll keep it to himself.

“You’re my big sister, putting up with you is kinda my job,” he murmurs, kissing your head as he adjusts his back. “But I cannot sleep on this couch.”

“ You put us here, shithead.”

Despite all your best intuitions, you text Sae back. You do tell Rin that as he’s leaving your apartment the following morning, and he leaves you with the suggestion that this be the last time you communicate with Sae. There isn’t an ultimatum there, but you know that you can’t keep allowing Rin to clean up the messes Sae left behind. Despite your close relationship and mutual understanding of how much it sucked to be emotionally fucked by Sae, it wasn’t fair to Rin that he picked up the additional emotional labor that was you crying over his brother or looking like you wanted to cry at the mention of him. You had a “Sae face”, for fuck’s sake - that could not last.

It’s always cold when you see Sae as adults. Mostly because it was the mid-season break in the middle of winter, but you also find it fitting that the weather fits how you feel the conversation should go. Indifferent, signaling the end to a one-sided friendship and the way he continued to keep you at arm’s length. Sae never felt warm, even down to the way he looked at you, it was a cold indifference that made you feel like you were stranded in the arctic with no way to truly understand what you did to be left that way. But you’re here now, standing in front of him as he watches you, not a sliver of interest in his expression that made you feel like he wanted you there despite the request that you come see him and make the time for him that he never made for you.

“Hey.” Your greeting is about as level as you can manage, trying to maintain the cold indifference he always met you with. He looks tired, moreso than usual, which has you concerned but not enough to ask. He wouldn’t ask you if you were okay, that same courtesy should not be extended even if the words dance on the tip of your tongue with a need to be bitten down to keep yourself quiet.

“It’s cold out here, we should head into the hotel.” And he’s gesturing to the lavish building to your left, the building you hadn’t noticed because Sae gave you tunnel vision. “I don't have time to get sick.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” But you follow him anyway, loosening your scarf as he leads you to the elevator before your gloves come off to get tucked into the pocket of your coat. You aren’t sure how long you’ll stay, but you’re not trying to overheat either.

“My mom says you’re almost done with university.”

“Yeah, I graduate in the spring.”

He only nods as the elevator stops, and again you’re following him down the hall to what is only the second door you see in the entire length of the hallway. Lavish hotel, lavish suite, you’d expect nothing less of Japan’s Treasure. Your boots are carefully removed before you take off your coat to hang up, acutely aware of how Sae watches you as he does the same. He was always watching, and you hate the way he could figure you out in seconds but never let you into the locked vault that was his brain. There was so much you could’ve learned if he’d just reciprocated some level of trust, but the last time you understood Sae was when you were in middle school - before Spain, before Blue Lock, before he broke your heart for the first time.

“Why’d you text on my birthday?”

“It was your birthday, wasn’t it? It’s polite to do that.”

“You haven’t done that in almost ten years.”

He gestures to the table on the other side of the suite, two plush chairs waiting for you both to sit and talk. That’s what Sae wanted, you supposed - to talk for the first time in four years. So you sit, tucking one leg under your body and nodding when he offered you some tea.

But then he’s quiet; watching as you sip at the tea provided, holding the mug in your hands as a way to close yourself off from him. He couldn’t hurt you if you didn’t let him in to do that.

“I want to make one thing clear, Sae.” You finally break after a couple minutes of unsettling silence, setting your cup down on the coaster before folding your hands in your lap. “I don’t have time to fuck around so please just get this over with and call me a stupid and hopeful girl that’s holding you back so I can go home.”

“Is that what you expected to get?”

“It’s the last thing you said to my face, so yeah.” He only nods at that, knowing that there was no denying that statement. “I can’t keep doing this, letting you show up every four years just to butter me up and then tell me to fuck off. I can’t keep trying to be your friend if you can’t even give me five minutes that I deserve when you’re not benefiting from it directly.”

He’s silent, and you continue to sip your tea while letting him process that. After a moment he stands, still saying nothing as he crosses the suite to get to a small box that sits on the dresser in the room. It looks expensive, a cherry wood case that is set delicately on the table in front of you. It’s as he sets it down that the sleeve of his shirt rides up a bit, revealing a familiar braided string of yarn that you’d made at a scouts camp. It was much too worn to be anything else, and your hand catches his wrist before he has the chance to sit down again.

“You’ll spill your tea.”

“Shut up,” you whisper, setting the mug down with your free hand before dragging your index finger along the bracelet until it catches the two beads that were braided side-by-side into the yarn. Black and white, “like a soccer ball” is what you’d told him all those years ago, and the way he smiled as you tied it around his wrist made you feel something your eight year old heart hadn’t been able to compute. “You still have it.”

“I’ve always had it. I only take it off to shower.” He speaks so softly you barely hear him, the hand on your cheek bringing your attention away from the bracelet and to him as he squats in front of you. “And I know I’m a piece of shit, Rin made sure to tell me at our family dinner a couple nights ago, but I guess I just wanted to let you know that I have been thinking about you and I’ve had you with me like you kept me with you all this time.”

“Why didn’t you ever just say that?” Your question has him sighing, and you look at him expectantly as he averts his gaze to look at the box instead. “If you’ve known all this time that I wanted you and you kept this - why not just say something?”

“I guess I just have to complicate everything.” You know that’s a joke - it has to be an attempt at one - and you can’t help but shake your head before you also look to where the box sits on the table waiting for you to open it. “I got this for you, putting it in the mail felt too impersonal.”

You don’t comment on how impersonal usually suited him just fine, not wanting to kill whatever moment you were having as your hands leave him to carefully open the box. You’re not sure what you’re expecting, but to hear an old pop song you’d enjoyed while he was spending time with you while Rin was at Blue Lock wasn’t it, and the tears well up in your eyes as it’s fully opened and you see a very old picture of you with Sae at one of your birthday parties pressed into the lid. Cake frosting on your face as you’re laughing, Sae’s finger still covered in frosting in the frame as he looks so proud of himself for getting you like that. Printed onto glass, a memory that you’d never forget because that was when Sae was happy , and preserved somewhere other than your heart (and apparently with one of your parents).

Then he pushes a button on the side of the box, the soft base lifting slowly to reveal a bracelet that looks so much like the one you’d made for him all those years ago. Only where he had two beads, this one has a small metal plate with a date on one side and you turn it when you see kanji on the other.

“‘Thank you for being my harbor’?”

“You’ve always been a safe place for me to come home to. A harbor for me to dock in. Even when I suck.” The explanation makes you chuckle as you wipe some stray tears from your cheek, commenting about how he spent too much time looking at the ocean while you watch him turn the bracelet over in your hands. “This was our first day of kindergarten. The day you decided you were my best friend.”

At that moment you don’t care about his career or potential for injury when you launch yourself at him. Arms tight around his neck as he barely catches you in time to cushion your fall as he hits the carpet below you.

“I didn’t think you had a heart,” you tease, earning a huff from the man below you but no other comment. “Thank you, Sae.”

“I’d try to stay for you.” His voice was almost so quiet you didn’t hear it, and you can’t stop yourself from kissing him in your excitement to hear him say that.

“You mean it?” You don’t get a verbal response, instead his lips reconnecting to yours in a kiss that was less exciting but not lacking in passion. A warmth that rarely emanated from Sae made you feel like you were on fire, but he always made you feel like that when he kissed you. “Sae-“

“Don’t think too hard about it,” he instructs, hand coming to rest on the back of your neck. “Do you want this?”

“What is this ?”

“Currently? I think sex,” he mumbles, kissing along your jaw where he could reach in this position “After that? I’m not sure.”

“Yeah, we’ll figure that part out later,” you murmur, tilting your head back to give him better access to your neck. “But now, sex is good.”

You hate how easily your shirt comes off, his task that was exploring your neck barely interrupted by pulling the fabric over your head with your bra following shortly after. You have to sit up to allow yourself the space to undo the buttons of his shirt, and he helps you by starting from the bottom to complete the task faster. The shirt and his undershirt are shed quickly after he sits up, his hands then occupying themselves with your breasts as your mouth meets his once more. Your hands undo his pants, fumbling in search of his length that you’d felt getting hard beneath you while you were kissing him. It’s easy for him to push you both up while he bridges his hi[s, supporting you with just one hand while his other helps you push his pants and briefs down so you’d have the access to him that you wanted. His length is hot in your hand, a soft groan escaping him as your hand blindly explores previously uncharted territory.

“Is someone sensitive?” you ask, smile on your face as he scoffs. Your own pants start to get wiggled down your hips, and you cooperate as he adjusts your body to ensure he could get your pants and panties off without needing to pull too far away from you. His ability to manhandle you shouldn’t be surprising, considering the intense strength training all professional athletes worked through, but for it to be Sae shuffling you around with little effort was something unexpected. Maybe it was because you consistently still pictured him as the same young teenager, the untainted version of Sae that loved you, but you can’t dwell on that when you feel a couple fingers slide through your slick folds.

His fingers ease into your cunt, it seemed like he was trying to match the easy pace of your hand with his thumb rolling against your clit shortly after your thumb runs along his tip. Like in all things, Sae is meticulous and observant and he worked diligently to get you ready to take him. He felt big in your hand, but without having a proper look at his cock you’re not sure if he was over or under preparing you so you’re trusting him while his fingers work expertly inside you. It’d be weird to ask how many people he’d been with, considering he clearly didn’t care how many people you’d been with - did it actually matter if you were here now? Probably not, but you always worked overtime thinking about what Sae was possibly up to without you.

“Ready?” He’s asking you as he pulls his hand back, but not looking at you as his attention is redirected to your neck and shoulder. “Don’t wanna cum in your hand, would rather do that inside you.”

“Condom?” you ask, wincing at the way his teeth gripped the skin at your jawline, before he let out a hum that sounded like a no.

“Not necessary.” The confirmation of his thought has you smiling, bumping your head against his as he looks up at you.

“How do you know I don’t want to trap you into giving me your money to raise a prodigy child?” you tease, earning yourself an exasperated sigh as he nips the shell of your ear.

“You’ve had access to Rin’s money for years and all you ask for are jerseys and tickets.” You’re mad that he knows that, but you’re sure that Rin has probably thrown it in his face once or twice that you don’t ask for much at all outside of basic human decency and how Sae couldn’t give you that. “He’d give you anything you asked for, maybe not a kid though.”

“He can’t give me you.”

“He’d kill himself before agreeing to that,” he murmurs, peppering kisses around your cheek as he eases you onto his length. “Gonna take all of me? I know you can.”

You could, but not without effort. Sae wasn’t excessively girthy, but he was longer than others you’d taken. You liked that you were on top, having more control over this despite his hands on your hips guiding you down as he whispers in your ear how well you were taking him. You don’t take his entire length on the first pass, but he’s still enamored as he leans back against the bed to properly take you in.

“You’re really pretty when I’m stretching you out like this.”

“Only when you’re fucking me?”

“All the time, you’ve always been pretty,” he responds, hand around your neck to keep your gaze locked on his. “But this is something special. Not just anyone gets to see you like this.”

That much was true, you were selective about who had access to you despite working overtime in college to do whatever you could to forget about Sae. You think mostly it was to keep your image clean for Rin, despite him never asking for the intimate details of your life that could tarnish your image in his eyes.

“Thinking too much,” he scolds, gently tapping your cheek to refocus your attention on him and only him . “You wanted my attention so bad, be good for me then.”

“You chased me this time,” you counter, rolling your hips against his and pulling a hiss from between his teeth. “So shut the fuck up.”

“Bossy,” he murmurs before pulling you in for another kiss. It’s more calculated than you’d expect for having his cock buried in your cunt as his hands help you ride him. There was a universe where you and Sae were like this all the time, you’re sure of it. One where you’re happy and in love with each other to the point where you can’t keep your hands off one another. A universe where it didn’t take eight years for him to say that you meant something to him - where he didn’t run from experiencing a human emotion to maintain a cool composure on the field. It was probably a world where he didn’t play soccer, and would probably never be the universe you lived in currently.

“Why are you crying?” he whispers, the hand that wasn’t holding your neck carefully rubbing your side in an effort to calm you down. You have even realized that you were crying, how embarrassing. “Does it hurt?”

“No, it’s okay,” you murmur, trying to reassure him as you continue fucking him, but you know you don’t believe it. “Thinking too much, like you said. Missed you a lot, y’know. This is nice.”

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t think so much,” he comments with a sigh, brushing his nose against yours as you shrug.

“Do something about it, then.”

He moves quickly at your challenge, your back hitting the plush carpet with a soft thud as he changes the position so he was on top. Your hands settle on his chest as he kisses you, the coil in your stomach tightening with every deep thrust into your pussy. His kiss is sloppy, needy and so uncharacteristic of the usually very meticulous man you’d come to know and love but hate most of the time.

“Sae, please,” you whine as he pulls away, cheek pressed to his as he presses his face into your neck.

“Keep saying it,” he requests, nipping and sucking at the skin he can get to as he pounds into you, one hand gripping your leg to bring it up to his hip for the deeper angle that has you seeing stars. “Let the whole hotel know who’s got you.”

“S-Sae,” you moan, his hand finding your clit bringing a choked gasp out of your lips that has him grinning into your skin.

“So good for me, you like the way I fuck you?”

“God, fuck yes!” You’re thankful his suite is so large, preventing many, if any, people from hearing how desperately you were missing for him. “S’good Sae.”

“I know,” he grunts, the sound coming from deep in his throat and sending a shiver down your spine. “Fuck, you feel great. So good for me.”

Your core continues to tighten with every thrust, signaling the beginning of the end for you, and you hope he’s also close because you’re not sure you could handle any more. You didn’t have the soccer stamina like he did.

“Sae, I’m gonna cum.” That gets his attention, leaving your neck with an open mouthed kiss before he’s looking down at you again. He’s smiling as his hand pushes your hair from your face, kissing your forehead as he feels your walls begin to constrict around him.

“Come on, baby, you can cum for me,” he murmurs, hands cupping your cheeks as he forehead rests against yours. “C’mon, beg a little bit for me as you do, yeah?”

“Sae, please,” you whimper, gripping his forearms as he grinds his hips into yours. His pelvis rubs against your clit with every stroke of his hips, his own normally controlled gaze unfocused as he feels his own end approaching. “Sae- yes, fuck - SaeSaeSae please. I’m gonna-!”

His moans are less intelligible as he tries to hold out through your orgasm, you barely make out your name among a string of curses until he finally stills as warmth floods your core. One small thrust followed by a second push his seed deeper into you, the press of his lips kissing away the tears that had rolled down your cheeks.

“The floor is not where I’d wanted to do this,” he murmurs but you only try to shake your head because you truly did not care. “You okay?”

“You’re going to have to check for a rug burn, but I’m good. More than that.” Your assurance comes as he pulls out, helping you to sit up before pulling you to your feet with him so he can help you to the bed on wobbly legs. He tells you to stay put for a moment after laying you down, and you watch from the bed as he leaves for the bathroom.

When he returns, he turns you on your back so he can check your skin for rug burns as requested while his other hand brings a washcloth between your legs to clean up the mess he’d left. Always striving for efficiency was Sae, and you appreciate the care he puts into getting you ready for bed. You honestly wouldn’t have expected that of him but, then again, this entire night was something you wouldn’t have expected from him.

“You look fine.” Is all he says before placing the softest of kisses between your shoulder blades, bringing a smile to your face before he goes to put the washcloth back into the bathroom. This time when he comes back he pulls you into his side, letting you rest your head on his shoulder while you continue to bask in the afterglow of having sex with Sae.

“Are you okay?” you ask, uncomfortable with the sudden silence despite the way he was relaxed beneath you. It wasn’t odd for him to get quiet, but after sex it felt odd. Was he regretting it, or trying to figure out how to ask you to go back home? What if this was all for him to get some closure he was looking for?

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just thinking.”

“Want to share with the class?”

“You asked what happened in Spain, and I never told you,” he murmurs, hand rubbing your back as you look up at him. “Never told anyone, really.”

You hum, gently tracing patterns on his chest with your fingertips as he sits in the silence. You weren’t going to say anything that could break his train of thought, not wanting to destroy whatever vulnerability he was going to extend to you.

“It’s different when you leave Japan. I know Rin has probably told you about some of it, but him exploring at seventeen or eighteen was vastly different than being thirteen.”

“I’m sure. You had to learn Spanish too, right?”

“I did, which is fucking hard when your English also isn’t great.” So at least you were right about that much, the stress he was likely under was unimaginable. “My translator worked overtime.”

“I’m sure.”

“But I think the worst of it was just how alone I was. A child, so hyped up and for what? The rug was pulled from under me very fast; not speaking the language created a lot of barriers for me, along with my age and obvious inexperience with how the real world works. Thought I knew everything, but I didn’t know shit.”

“I mean, you were just a kid still, did they not-“

“They didn’t care. I could’ve been a toddler and they wouldn’t have given a shit. And they taught me quickly that everything you have can be taken away from you. I guess initially I didn’t want them to try and take you, too. Then it was just, everything changed. I had to change my entire mentality about soccer to succeed there and it took over. And I can’t break it, or else I break my soccer.”

“You realize that’s not a good excuse to have acted like a complete dick for the last ten years, right?” You ask, propping yourself up to look directly at him. “Like all you had to say was ‘Spain sucks, I’m miserable, and I don’t want to push you away but I know I suck’ and I would’ve tried to understand more. But then you did the rest of it, and did irreparable damage to Rin and I.”

“I know,” he sighs, his eyes closing as you roll yours. “I know, and nothing I can do will fix that. You just wanted to know, and I owed you that.”

“You’re pretty hot when you’re vulnerable.” Your attempt to lighten the mood lands, earning a snort from the usually collected Sae before he opens his eyes to look at you again. “I’m serious!”

“I’m sure,” he mumbles, settling more into the bed while trying to pull you back down into him. You don’t let him get you easily, pulling back against him so you could continue that eye contact with him.

“Are you sticking around this time?” The question has him sighing, and you feel bad for ruining the moment but you know you need to talk this out. “I meant it when I said I can’t keep doing this. If you’re not sticking around, or if you’re going to leave without saying anything and cut me off again, then we’re done on all fronts. I can’t keep waiting for you to choose me.”

You think you know the answer when he sighs, but you let him pull you down into his chest this time. You’d enjoy it while it lasted, you supposed, the consequences would be felt in the morning. Sae was finally yours , even if it was only for a night.

You wake up alone in the hotel suite, still naked but neatly tucked in by who you could only assume was Sae. The woven bracelet is tied around your wrist, which gives you hope, but looking around the room tells you that he’d left entirely. No suitcases, no remnants of the clothes you’d shed on the way to the bedroom, your own clothes neatly folded at the end of the bed. He did exactly what he told you he wouldn’t do, which has your stomach dropping as the tears well up.

Deep down, you knew he wouldn’t keep his word. He would never choose you over soccer, after all.

You feel ashamed as you leave the hotel, the snow still falling and you’re tempted to walk all the way back home to just marinate in the emotions you were feeling. But you don’t, instead calling for a taxi where the driver listens to you sniffle in your own misery with a sympathetic look on his face. You hate being so vulnerable, exposed in public for having your heart broken and the pieces stomped on by someone who grew up with you, but it’s another thing you can hate Sae for.

Coming home to Rin sitting on your couch was not what you wanted exactly, but pulling off your layers and then flopping on the couch beside him was what you needed. He’d be disappointed that you’d bought into Sae’s lies once more, but he’d be relieved to hear that you were completely done now. You’d learned your lesson one too many times, and now you could both move on from this constant cycle of heartache.

“What happened?”

“Details you don’t need, for starters,” you sigh, earning a gagging sound from Rin that makes you roll your eyes. “But I told him if he left like he did the last two times, not saying anything and just going ghost that I wanted him to never talk to me again. And when I woke up he was gone. Like he was never there.”

“Bastard.” Is the only thing to leave Rin as he pulls you into his side. “But I suppose he finally made his choice.”

“He’d always made his choice, I’m just an idiot.” He doesn’t have anything to say to that, and you just lean into his shoulder while you try to fight back the next round of tears. You appreciate that he doesn’t want to make you feel worse by telling you what he thought, but the silence was horrifyingly loud. “I should shower.”

“I’ll make some breakfast for you.”

After you were clean and had eaten, Rin left for his own training regimen and you sat on your couch while staring at your phone as it vibrated on the coffee table. Sae had already called twice, this would be the third time he’d called. You don’t want to answer, but you know you have to or else he wouldn’t stop calling. But maybe he’d come back if he thought you hadn’t made it home? Could you manipulate him into your apartment so you could yell at him in person?

No, that wouldn’t really fix anything. He’d probably just try to fuck you into being docile again, and you didn’t want or need that.

“You selfish piece of shit.” Is how you start when you answer, standing up from your seat. “I can’t believe that I believed all that shit you said! But classic Sae, right? Tell me what I want to hear and then fucking leave without a word!”

“I’m sorry-”

“You’d fucking want to be! I’m so tired of you jerking me around like this, and then Rin feels obligated to pick up the pieces of the heart you shatter time and time again! He deserves better than to clean up your mess both with me and with your family.”

“I had a flight to catch.”

“Then you say that, dick! Don’t give me some expensive gift, fuck me, then leave!”

“When was I supposed to tell you?”

“I dunno, maybe when we were staring at each other in those chairs? Or when you were taking off my clothes? Or, and here’s a crazy thought, when we were laying in bed and I told you flat out that if you left like that again you could consider me gone for real!” You don’t know when you’d made it to your bedroom, but you’re sure you owe your neighbors an apology for how loud you were yelling into your phone. “Like always, you know just what to say to get me close to you and then you fuck it up because you’re selfish, arrogant, and think that just because you can kick a ball really well that you can just treat me how you want?”

“It shouldn’t matter.” Is what you’re met with, and you have to stop yourself from screaming into the phone as your response for how upset you were. “You should know, especially after last night, that you do mean something to me.”

“Sure, but I just can’t do this shit with you, Sae. I can’t be with you when you’re here and then not exist when you’re gone!” You yell into the phone, knowing that as soon as he didn’t like where the conversation was headed he’d hang up. You’d at least gotten to say your piece, make sure he knew just how upset you were and how deeply he’d fucked up. Saying that you should know when he never made you feel anything like that until last night? Absurd and you hoped he’d learn after this that you have to communicate. “I told you that if you left the same way again that I wouldn’t be waiting for you when you came back. I’m done waiting for you, Sae. I can’t keep hoping that one day you’ll choose me because you want to instead of it being because I’m convenient for you.”

“You think it’s out of convenience?”

“When have you ever given me a reason to think otherwise?”

There’s only silence on the other line, so you hang up after a couple moments of giving him an opportunity to respond before flopping back onto your bed and riding the way it bounced until you eventually settled. There wasn’t anything to look forward to, he’d never choose you and you couldn’t put your life on hold in the off chance that hell froze over and he did choose you over soccer.

But you had a graduation coming up that you needed to prepare for, Sae was not ruining that for you.

After you graduate, however, things get a bit boring. Work and more work, an endless repetition that exhausts you. If Rin would be a good younger brother and put in a good word for you with one of his teammates, you’d volunteer to be a trophy soccer wife and just travel. Would it be a waste of your degree? Absolutely, but there had to be more to life than whatever this was. Even if you had to act like you at least enjoyed soccer, it has to be more interesting than the life you had currently. People think it’s cool that you’ve got pictures with Itoshi Rin on your desk and are able to get them passes to matches you simply don’t want to be at, it gives them something to talk to you about and see you smile for once instead of having your head down in your work.

But you know part of the misery is tied into the fact that you can’t stop thinking about Sae. Yes, you’d cut him off after he’d left you, but there was so much history that you were severing that it hurt to do and think about. If Rin asked, you were doing just fine, even if he knew you better than to believe that.

Your prayers always seem to be answered in the form of Itoshi Rin. You hadn't exactly told him how miserable you were, trying to put on a good show for him whenever you had the chance to talk. You even left to get drinks with coworkers a couple times and let someone take you out on a date. You were trying to be social, because you knew it would help him worry less about you.

But the next time Rin is in the country, he shows up on a Saturday evening and tells you to get dressed as you’re in the middle of preparing vegetables to cook for dinner. He never showed up without calling, so this had to have been an impromptu decision for him to show up in relatively nice clothes instead of his usual gym or travel wear.

“You could call , asshole. I wouldn’t have started cooking.”

“It’s just vegetables, they’ll keep for another day. Now go get dressed, casual but nice.”

You comply, but not because Rin told you to. The notion of going out with someone you didn’t see every day at work was enough to make you cooperative, is at least what you would try to say if he asked why you tagged along if you managed to get a complaint out.

“Where are we even going ?”

“Dinner with some of my teammates. Apparently they miss you despite passing my phone around in the locker room to talk to you before every match.”

“Do they know I’m single?”

“I think it’s painfully obvious on your instagram.” That has you poking your head out of the bathroom to look at him as he goes through your closet while you try to make your hair more presentable for dinner with sports celebrities. “I’m surprised I haven’t seen four cats running around here at this point.”

“Go fuck yourself,” you retort, flipping him off before going back to your task that was taming your hair. “Pick out something cute!”

“You’re so annoying,” he calls, earning himself another middle finger extended out of the doorway of your bathroom. “You’d better be dressed in ten minutes.”

You’re finished getting ready in nine, probably a personal best but only made possible because Rin picked clothes out for you - saving you both the agony that came with you rifling through your closet for the right outfit. Choosing and then doubting yourself to choose again only to end up going back to your original selection. He hated that, so it made his life much easier to pick the clothes and get you into the car.

“Where exactly are we going?” It’s the third time you’ve asked, you see Rin’s eye twitch in annoyance at the question since he’d told you that you were going with him to dinner with some of his teammates. He didn’t tell you where, or who all would be there, but you did enjoy everyone he played with so you couldn’t be fully upset at not having details. “Who all is going to be there?”

“We’re going to that one sushi place we went to on your birthday last year. Not sure exactly who all from the team will be there, but Aiku will definitely be there since he has been asking about you nonstop. Missed seeing you at matches when we’re playing here. Are you satisfied?”

“You should tell him I hate soccer and only went for you in the first place.”

“You don’t hate soccer, you hate what it did to you.”

“Same difference.”

“Behave in there,” Rin warns once the car is parked, and you look over at him with an unimpressed stare as you unbuckle your seatbelt. “I told them ahead of time not to mention Sae.”

“So they know your brother fucked me then left me?”

“No. Just that you two were once close and now the ties are officially severed but you’re still grieving the loss of that friendship.” He was so good at covering for you, but you also know that he was happy that you’d finally chosen yourself over choosing to chase Sae that he’d do anything to make that choice easier for you to heal from. “You’re going to have a good time. If not, I’ll kill them.”

And you did have a good time, sitting between Rin and Oliver proved to be very entertaining while you were paid close attention to by both men. Rin per usual was a bit distant from his teammates, but would lean in to speak to you and make sure you were doing okay. On your left, Oliver was switching between speaking to you and chattering to his teammates. He asked questions about how you’ve been doing, interested in your studies and excited that you’d graduated. He knew how hard you worked from past conversations and hearing Rin try to figure out how to send care packages from different countries to get you through exams, and he told you that he was proud of you for such a big accomplishment.

“Let me take you out to celebrate. Just the two of us,” Oliver requests, his smile nothing short of charming despite Rin’s scoff behind you. He never let Rin’s attitude deter him from what he wanted, and you did like that about Oliver. The fact that he was handsome just happened to be a plus.

You want to say no, you really do. The thought of spending time with people outside of your apartment, without Rin to act as a buffer and remove you from the situation when you started to get emotional was terrifying. But the nudge from Rin happens, and you know that it’d be for the best that you develop habits that don’t include crying over Itoshi Sae and and you need to make more friends that weren’t at your job. So you nod, smile on your face as you tell Oliver that you’d really like for him to take you out.

A couple years pass by, and you end up in a serious relationship with Oliver Aiku. It’s a very public affair, him flying you out for matches and always kissing you very passionately after victories - one time practically jumping into the stands to get to you. He loved you loudly, proudly, and would show you off at every opportunity to the point where you spent more time working remotely from whatever country he wanted you in than being in your office.

His pride in being with you is what brought you to an annual gala, complete with the nice expensive dress that coordinated beautifully with his suit. The pocket square even sparkled in the light like your dress did, a very important detail to him as he was dress shopping with you.

And he liked to be by your side, hand held in his or his arm around your waist as you chatted with his teammates or other players that you knew through him and Rin, but he also gave you space. If you excused yourself, he’d check in only briefly to make sure you were okay before letting you know to let him know if you needed him. And when you excused yourself at this gala, telling him you were going to use the restroom before getting more champagne for the both of you, he let you go with a kiss on your cheek and a gentle but discrete pat to your ass with a grin that you couldn’t help but adore.

You know that you love Oliver; you love the way he treats you and the way that he loves you - with no question or hesitation to tell and show you how much he cared. Rin didn’t hate the relationship, he just wished Oliver was more mindful of the environment before making a scene after matches, but most of all Rin was happy that you were happy. His brother wasn’t a constant source of emotional pain for you anymore, Oliver made sure of that, and that’s all Rin truly wanted for you: happiness and to feel like you were chosen for once. You knew you’d never force the ultimatum that was you or a soccer career, but knowing that Oliver would drop anything except for a match to get to you if you needed him meant so much more than you think he’d understand after your history of dealing with Sae. A history that he has gotten bits and pieces of, but not quite the full story. Rin would never dig up that history without your permission, but you share bits and pieces when he asks well timed questions.

You love Oliver, but running into Sae as you leave the restroom has you stopped in your tracks and you can tell he’s also put off by the sudden rendezvous. While you were always at these events at Oliver’s side, you’d managed to avoid crossing paths with Sae since he very rarely showed up to them. You hadn’t seen him since that night, and were hoping that you’d never have to see him again after you’d officially severed the ties that bound you to him. But here he was, and you stand in silence for a moment before he realizes that you’re not going to say anything to him.

“You look well,” is all he says, and you nod with as straight a face as you can muster. You couldn’t make a scene here, fighting Itoshi Sae at a JFU event would get you blacklisted and possibly Oliver too. “Thank you, you also look well.”

“Aiku, huh?”

“He never thought I was holding him back. He’s stayed with no hesitation about his career,” you comment, leaning against the wall of the hallway as Sae nods his understanding. “Why’d you leave that night? Don’t bullshit me, either, we’re too old for that.”

“Truthfully, I was scared. You deserved better than what I was prepared to provide, so I left for your sake.” You’re not buying it, but you would let him live in the delusion that he was doing what was best for you rather than what was best for him . Whatever he needed to sleep at night. “He makes you happy?”

“Yeah,” you murmur, the thought that he also had made you happy when you were spending time with him dying on your tongue when you swallow. That wouldn’t fix anything for him or for you. “I love him, and he loves me.”

“The way he makes out with you after matches says enough.”

“And you have no place to comment. You had multiple chances, and you chose to push me away every time and go silent so we couldn’t even talk about it. You ran , Itoshi. Oliver doesn’t run.” He sighs, and you roll your eyes at the fact that he wasn’t leaving and was also blocking the hallway so you couldn’t leave easily either. “Would there ever have been a time where you chose me? Or tried to be with me when you weren’t on a break from playing?”

“Why are you so obsessed with causing yourself pain?,” Sae asks, and you shrug while doing your best to keep the emotions at bay. “You still want to cry when you’re angry, but you’re better at stopping yourself now.”

“Maybe I’m just so used to you hurting me, I don’t know what to do when you’re not.” You know that cuts deep, he visibly flinches at that which you wouldn’t expect to see him do in public. “I need to get back before he comes looking and then tries to deck you.”

That has Sae turning to move past you and into the men’s bathroom, leaving you to take a couple deep breaths before leaving the small hallway and making your way through the various players, executives, and their guests to get back to Oliver. On occasion someone would greet you and you’d stop to chat for a moment to avoid being rude, which results in Oliver making his way to you since you’d been gone for so long.

You’re conflicted as you dance with Oliver, your head resting on his shoulder as he sways with you in time with the song playing. Sae had been your ultimate wish, and it would’ve been a dream come true to have him choose you at least once. But to know that it wouldn’t have ever happened, not because of Oliver but because of soccer ? A re-entry of the knife that had been thrust into your heart all those years ago.

“Everything okay?”

“Why do you ask?” You look up from his shoulder, smiling when he leans in to kiss the tip of your nose.

“You were gone a while, and you didn’t come back with the drinks, and you looked a bit upset which is why I went and scooped you up.” He paid such close attention to you, and he kissed your nose again with a soft smile that made you melt all over again. “I’m assuming you ran into him.”

“Yeah, but it’s fine. He’s stupid, and I have you and you make me the happiest lady in the world.”

“He fumbled the most beautiful girl in the world, like the idiot he is.”

And you hate soccer, you truly do, but you hate more that you had to dig that grave up again every time you saw Sae - even if it was just in passing. Sae’s impact on your feelings is something you’re not sure you’ll ever have control over, and it’s not fair to Oliver that you’re so easily impacted by another. Oliver was warm , with a smile that could melt glaciers and held you like he would be your defender set to protect you from any harm. You deserved to bask in the sun after spending so long chasing after Sae in the cold darkness that came with his uncertainty.

“Do you wanna go fuck in the bathroom? Might make you feel better.”

“Tempting offer but I kinda enjoy you being a starter on the team and also employed.”

“You just like a man in uniform.”

“Yeah.” Your agreement has him grinning, you weren’t at all shy about liking how he looked in his gear. “But you’re my favorite man in uniform, Captain.”

#itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae x you #itoshi sae angst #itoshi sae fanfic #blue lock fanfics #blue lock fics #blue lock fanfiction #blue lock x reader #sae x reader #sae x you

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